


The Nothing And What Came After

by Tabbykat



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Implied Nudity, Multi, Near Death, Near Death Experiences, Nudity, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Sex, it's complicated - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-17 15:51:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 33,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15464850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tabbykat/pseuds/Tabbykat
Summary: Warden Lurianna Cousland survived her battle with the Arch Demon and married Alistair to rule beside him.But...what happened between the final blow and the coronation?





	1. The Nothing

**Author's Note:**

> This was all written years ago when first played Dragon Age: Origins. I fell in love with the game so much I wanted to keep as true to the events as possible and just weave my story around them, so there will be several scenes and bits of dialogue taken directly from the game, noted as needed per chapter.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warden Lurianna Cousland has struck the final blow against the Archdemon and is lost in Oblivion

Pain.

That was my world.

All I felt, all I knew.

Blackness streaked with white lightening, all I saw.

I was in this world I don’t know how long. Minutes? Hours? Centuries beyond measure? I floated, I fell, I ran and I crawled across the nothing, the darkness. Feeling only the white searing flashes of noise echoing throughout my ravaged soul, for I had no body in this place between worlds.

Slowly-Maker so slowly!-the lightening faded and the darkness lifted. In time I found myself surrounded by a soft, white light. I felt warm finally, after never knowing I was cold. I stared at this new, softer nothing, for that was what it was. I had traded one kind of emptiness for another. And I waited.

Then it seemed to me that the light was growing brighter in one direction. I moved towards it for no other reason than it was something. It was different. I cannot say I felt curious about it but there was nothing else for me there, and it was something to do.

As I grew closer to this one patch of brightness, two forms began to take shape. Dark, formless shapes at first, but soon enough I was able to make out limbs, clothing, and features. Hauntingly familiar features…

“Mother?” I whispered questioningly to the nothing around me, startled at first by my own voice. When had I gained a voice? A body? But those questions were put aside as I saw the familiar, beloved forms of my parents before me.

“Lurianna darling,” my mother, Teyrna Eleanor Cousland said with a smile as she wrapped her arms around me. Her long silver hair was pulled up and braided into two buns that sat at the nape of her neck, and she wore the traditional high necked gown of a noble lady.

Many thought my mother was a harsh woman, for she often walked about with a rather stern expression on her face. And many would be right for there was not often a noble woman in Fereldan who could not be stern or harsh. One had to be to keep a household of several hundred souls running smoothly. But it was her eyes that gave away her true nature. The color of a stormy sky, those eyes would nevertheless sparkle with an inner light whenever she looked upon her husband or her children at play. It was those eyes that showed she was also a woman with a strong, kind heart and a strange sense of humor for one of noble birth.

I clung tightly to my mother, caught in her embrace and looked over her shoulder at my father, smiling at the both of us. “Well done pup,” he said to me, using a childhood nickname I had never grown tired of.

Unlike my mother, my father Teyrn Bryce Cousland was a man who was easy to read. Tall and broad shouldered like any good warrior, my father’s salt and pepper hair belied his youthful heart. Laugh lines around his eyes showed he was quick to smile. Loyal, honest and brave, my father was a man who loved his king, his country, his family and people more often than not loved him back.

Pulling away from my mother, I clasped hands with my father and asked them the question that new found curiosity had kindled in me. “What are you doing here? Where are we?”

My parents looked at each other before answering, the kind of look that only years together in a loving, fulfilling marriage can create passing between them. They knew something I didn’t and by the looks on their faces, it wasn’t entirely good.

“What was the last thing you remember?” my mother asked gently as she turned back to me.

I frowned, thinking. I remembered nothing beyond the white we found ourselves in, but something deep inside me was screaming that there was a ‘before’. After a few futile minutes I gave up, shaking my head in frustration. “Nothing mother, I woke up here, with you.”

“Think hard pup,” father encouraged. “You’re a Cousland remember! If wars and dragons cannot stop us, why would we falter at mere memory?”

I stood before them, my face screwed up in confusion. There was nothing before this, before them. Just…pain? And a darkness. But before that, a battle? A…dragon?

I gasped and clutched my head, my knees giving way beneath me as my mind’s eye was assaulted with images. The battle with the Arch Demon, fighting the Darkspawn, building an army, gathering my companions, Alistair, becoming a Grey Warden, fleeing my home after…

“You’re dead!” I cried out, the full weight of my memories crashing down and resting heavily on my shoulders. “I remember, the battle with Arl Howe’s men, fighting to find you, leaving you there in that storeroom as they…” I stopped myself there, unable to continue. Tears rolled down my face as I remembered everything that had happened almost a year ago as if it was mere moments in my past. “How could I leave you?” I whispered brokenly.

I had never had the time to properly mourn the loss of my parents. Almost a year ago, the Grey Wardens had reported the beginnings of a Blight, that one time every few centuries when the Darkspawn would arise from the depths of the earth that they lived in and attack the surface.

Darkspawn were dark, twisted creatures and the Grey Wardens were men and women from all the races sworn and dedicated to defeating them wherever they showed upon the surface. Their order was created during the first Blight and often they were the only ones that stood between us and the Darkspawn.

Darkspawn hated everything. The killed whatever living thing they came upon, ate whatever they could, and burned everything else. They left nothing but death and destruction in their wake. Centuries ago the world was ruled by mages, a corrupt and decadent society called the Tevinter Imperium. The first of the Darkspawn were rumored to be a group of Tevinter mages who grew so prideful and powerful that they dared to take on heaven itself and were cast down for their hubris.

Fortunately they weren’t too bright either, or too loyal to each other so for the most part the surface world only ever dealt with small raiding parties at a time and those few and far between as the Darkspawn hated the light. But once every few centuries it seems, something would change and the Darkspawn would leave the darkness of their homes en masse.

There were seven dragon gods worshiped by the Tevinter Imperium and at their fall, so too were their gods thrown down. The scriptures say the Chantry imprisoned these dragon gods deep below the earth. Some say these dragons are truly gods and other that they are just that, dragons. Ancient, powerful, High Dragons, and that they have merely gone into deep hibernation. No one truly knows for none are left to speak the truth. All we know now is that the Darkspawn seek out these sleeping dragons, these fallen gods. And once they are found the Darkspawn corrupt them by feeding them their blood, creating a new creature from their ancient and powerful forms: an Arch Demon.

Arch Demons can communicate with and command Darkspawn. And be they dragon or god, the one thing they think about once woken is returning to the surface, to the world they once ruled, and ruling it again. So they gather the Darkspawn in the pits of the earth and they march forth to take back what they believe to be rightfully theirs. These are the times known as Blights.

I was my curse to be born in one such Blight, the fifth since recorded history. King Cailan, new to the throne after the passing of his father King Maric, heard the reports of the Grey Wardens and called upon the lords of the lands to muster their men for battle. The one battle, if we were to believe it that would defeat the Blight before it started.

My father called his vassal, Arl Howe to our home to march to Ostagar where the battle was to be fought. We were told that the arl’s men were delayed, so my elder brother Fergus was sent ahead with our men with the arl’s to follow the next day.

But that day never dawned.

I was awoken that same night to the sounds of battle and the screams of the dying. The arl had lied. His men were set loose upon the castle, slaughtering all in their path. Their orders: Leave none alive.

I found my mother in the confusion, and we fought our way to my father’s side, but it was too late for him. Duncan, a Grey Warden who had come recruiting for the order earlier in the day, found us and offered my father to take my mother and myself to safety, on the condition that I joined the order.

My mother never made it. She stayed behind with my dying father to buy Duncan and I what little time she could before they were both cut down.

That night I fled my burning home with Duncan. We went straight to the king’s camp at Ostagar, where I was initiated into the order. Immediately after, I was thrown into the battle where my king, my people, and my new found brotherhood were betrayed by the king’s father-in- law, Teyrn Loghain.

I never fully understood why Loghain betrayed us all that night. I learned much, much later that his hatred for Orlais, our neighbour who once claimed us as a vassal state had driven him mad. Loghain had fought in the wars that freed us from Orleasian law, and in the grips of his madness, saw them as the true threat over the Blight, especially when the Orleasian Grey Wardens came with several battalions of backup for the battle at Ostagar.

So Loghain got rid of what he thought was the true danger to Fereldan: The king and the Grey Wardens. Instead of bringing his men in to join the battle at an appointed signal, Loghain retreated from the field, leaving everyone to be slaughtered by the Darkspawn. With the king and army dead, Loghain branded the Grey Wardens as traitors, and I found myself on the run again with the last Fereldan Grey Warden survivor Alistair. We never stopped after that, fighting Darkspawn, evading assassins Loghain sent after us, traveling all across Fereldan recruiting allies to defeat the Blight.

My life up until that moment was constant moving, running, fighting. Never a moment to stop, contemplate my losses and properly mourn my family. In the back of my mind, I was grateful for that for I feared my sorrow would cripple me if I let it in at the wrong time. But here in this timeless space with no one hunting for me, calling for me, demanding my time and attention, I finally found the chance to grieve the way I should have long ago.

And so I wept. I cried until there were no tears left. I screamed until my voice broke. I let everything out until I felt empty and hollow on the inside but also somehow cleansed. It was only then that I felt a strong, warm hand on my shoulder in comfort, and without looking up I knew it was my father. As much as I loved Alistair, no one else has ever been able to make me feel so safe.

“I know you regret leaving us that night pup,” he said softly. “But you did what we asked you to do.”

“You needed to live darling,” my mother said as she helped me to my feet and wiped my tears as if I were a child again. “You needed to find your brother, avenge us, and retake our home. We didn’t want that end for you.”

“You have done well. You’ve done everything we could have asked of you and more. We knew you would be great one day, but we never imagined you would save all of Fereldan from a Blight, and become its queen!”

My parent’s eyes sparkled with undisguised love and pride and I could not help but feel a little embarrassed. I never felt that I was doing anything extraordinary. I fought only because I felt it was the right thing to do, that anyone else caught in my position would do the same thing. Not only to serve and defend the realm, but to protect the ones I loved. And if that meant destroying an Arch Demon and his Darkspawn army to do it, I would do my best to win.

And apparently I did.

Or did I?

“I’m dead, aren’t I?” It only made sense. If my parents were dead, killed at the hands of Arl Howe’s men, then it only stood to reason that I had fallen in battle to the Arch Demon. I only hope I took the bastard down with me.

“You’re close darling, but not yet,” mother said. “You’re body was terribly hurt in the battle, and your soul came here to escape the pain.”

“You’re standing on the threshold of heaven,” father said grimly. “You’re soul would have crossed over by itself or been collected in time, had we not intercepted you.”

I shook my head, confused. “But why did you stop me? We can finally be together again. Isn’t that what you would want? I’ve missed you both so much.”

“And we’ve missed you too darling, but this is not your time,” mother explained. “Even now your mage friend works to heal your wounds before your body succumbs to them. You can survive them so long as your soul does not cross over.”

“So you know about my companions? What else have you seen?” I asked, cocking my head at my mother.

“We’ve kept watch over you all this time pup. We’ve watched you grow these past few months, and seen the great things you have accomplished. You united a kingdom at war! You renewed ancient bonds between the Grey Warden and their allies the elves and the dwarves, and even with Fereldan itself!” my father exclaimed.

“And we have seen the love that you have found with Fereldan’s new king,” mother interjected. I blushed at that. I certainly hope they weren’t watching all the time. There were some things that no parent needed to see from their child.

“You’re story is not over yet daughter, but you have a choice to make now.” Father’s face grew stern again. “Your body is healing as we speak so you can return to it. You can return to your world, and continue having adventures. Or…” his voice trailed off.

“Or you can come with us,” my mother finished softly.

“But you just told me my time’s not come yet.”

“And it hasn’t darling,” my mother assured me. “If you go back, you will survive. Your soul came here to escape the pain of your body. If you stay here, or come with us, your soul will be lost, taken to the Maker or lost to the Fade, and your body will die. We only came here to keep you from straying too far, too soon.”

“Are Oriana and Oren here too?” My sister-in-law and little nephew, the first of the family casualties that night my world changed forever.

Mother nodded. “They are here, and they watch over Fergus as we watch over you.”

“Fergus is alive?” I asked excitedly. When I arrived at Ostagar, my brother was out with a scouting party. I was to tell him what had befallen our family but I never saw him before the fates whisked me away. I had vowed to myself that once the threat of the Blight was past I would find my brother, one way or another.

“He lives. All that remains is for you to seek him out,” my father confirmed.

I studied the beloved faces of my parents as I though over all they had told me. Could I do that? Walk further into the light and leave everything behind? Leave my companions, my love, my burdens of life? The Maker knew I was tired of it all. The damnable politics, the pointless squabbles, the fighting. I wanted nothing more now than to rest. Would anyone argue that I didn’t deserve it? I had gone above and beyond my duty. I had seen so much, saved so many, surely there would be no one would begrudge me this rest.

But would it be worth it?

I sighed and straightened my shoulders. “I cannot come with you yet.” I looked at my mother, stern and kind; my father, proud and strong. I knew this would be the last time I saw them until I was finally called to the Maker’s side.

“You’re right. It’s not my time. I am tired, but there is too much left undone. I cannot leave with so much waiting for me. Denerrim needs to be rebuilt. Fereldan needs to heal. I must find Fergus. I can’t leave him alone and,” I paused and took a deep breath, “I cannot leave Alistair so soon after we found each other.”

Mother and father nodded at me, as if they knew all along that I would choose this. I could see that they were saddened by my choice, but I also think that no matter how proud I had made them before, nothing would top this moment for them, no matter how heart wrenching. I had choosen duty over family.

“Go now pup,” my father bade me. “Return to your king and companions. Be a good queen to your people. Tell your brother we are all here waiting for the both of you when the Maker calls. There will be time enough for us to spend together when you return.”

Father smiled that reassuring smile I knew so well. I remembered it from when I was a child and had done something wrong, or when I was hurt, when I was scared, or lonely, he would give me that smile. That smile told me everything would be alright.

I would return to them. Leliana and Sten. Shale and Wynne. Zevran, Oghren, my hound Kiché, and even my beloved Alistair. I knew not what the world would bring us now with the Arch Demon being dead at my hands. But with that smile I knew that no matter what happened to me, to us, we would get through it. Either together as companions, or separately as friends.

I embraced my parents one last time before I turned from them and walked away.

I don’t know how long I walked. All I knew is I was going back, or at least I hoped I was. Eventually the light dimmed around me and I started feeling heavier somehow. There is a fundamental difference between knowing you have a corporal form and actually having one. I could only assume as the weight descended upon me that I was returning to myself.

It became harder to move, the more I walked into the darkness until I couldn’t anymore and I was surrounded by nothing again. So I waited, feeling heavy and sore. My whole body ached and it was hard to breathe. I like to think a lesser man or woman would have panicked in that suffocating darkness.

But I had faced down Darkspawn hordes, powerful demons, fearful abominations, golems, dragona, and creatures from the darkest reaches of nightmares. I was scared, but I did not let it rule me. I stood there waiting, watching, and listening. I felt the weight of my body, the ache in my bones, the softness that seemed to be all around me until finally I heard something.

A soft whine came from somewhere far off in the darkness. There and gone in an instant I nevertheless recognized it right away. As well as the sadness and the loneliness that so infused that one small sound.

“Kiché?” I called questioningly, but heard no reply. Kiché was my Mabari war hound, a species known for its intelligence and loyalty to one master. Many said that the bond between hound and master were so close that they were not only often of one mind, but also one soul. Mabari hounds were often found guarding the bodies of their fallen masters and few hounds outlived their masters’ deaths, dying either on the sword of an enemy or of a broken heart.

By that sound I knew my beloved hound and the closest companion most of my life was hurting for me, and suddenly I was no longer content to sit and wait. I wanted to move, to speak, to see. To wrap my arms around my hound, look into the faces of my friends, and feel the lips of my love on mine.

At first only able to feel my body around me, now I took control of it and forced my eyes open.


	2. What Came After

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lurianna awakens to some friendly faces

I blinked my eyes rapidly, my sight fuzzy and unfocused at first. But soon I saw great blocks of grey stone above me and the edges of my vision caught the rich brown color of wooden bed posts. That softness I had felt around me was that of the bed I now found myself lying on, as well as the sheets that covered me.

I looked down at myself slowly for everything hurt. The sheets only covered me from the waist down. From the waist to armpit I was covered in tightly wrapped bandages and nothing else. My bare arms lying atop the covers were crisscrossed with angry red weals and lines. Wounds I had sustained in battle I guessed and well along the healing process by the looks of things. Soon enough they would fade to silver and blend in with the multitude of other scars I had that told the story of my life by the sword. But upon seeing them I feared how long I had been asleep. I looked around the stark, barren room, taking stock of my surroundings.

The room was moderately sized, big enough for the bed I found myself in as well as a chair and desk to my right, both empty of anything save a lone lantern on the worn table top with space enough for two abreast to walk around all items comfortably. Everything was clean if worn, patched and faded and I could have sworn I smelled the faintest hint of smoke in the air. I guessed it was about midday if the light coming through the window to my left was any indication. But the room was suspiciously empty and the air had an unquiet stillness to it, like an overlarge beast holding it’s breathe.

“Kiché?” I tried to call out, my voice coming out instead in a cracked and broken hiss of air that ended in a terrible coughing fit. The spasms wracked my body awakening the pain to new heights. Gasping for air in the aftermath I blinked the tears away and licked my dry, chapped lips as a dark form rose up at the end of the bed.

Two large, dark, liquid brown eyes looked back at me worriedly, the face they belonged to seeming to hold far more intelligence than any creature should. It was Kiché. I smiled at my faithful hound. He had been keeping watch at the foot of my bed.

“Hey boy,” I whispered, careful not to strain my voice. I winced as I opened a new crack or two on my already sore lips despite my caution. Kiché cocked his head questioningly at me, emitting another small worried whine. His ears, large, sharply pointed things that normally stood tall and proud on the head were drooping slightly with his worry.

“I’m alright boy,” I whispered again, my voice growing a little bit stronger with each use. I patted the empty bed bedside me, and with a soft chuff of air Kiché climbed up lay beside me, his back along my side, my arm curled under his head.

I remembered when he was just a pup we would curl up in bed together like this at night despite my parent’s insistence that he sleep on the floor. It had been many years since I held my hound like that. Mabari hounds are born big boned, and grow large with muscle. There was not often a bed big enough to hold the both of us once he was fully grown and though there was enough room for two people on this bed, I was laid out more to the middle so one human and a Mabari was a bit of a tight fit. But at that moment I didn’t care. I was back from the dead and fully intended to take what little joys I could.

We lay there together for a few moments with me stroking his fur and whispering soothing nonsense to him. I reveled in all the sensations my battered, aching body took in. The texture of my hound’s fur, the dusty smell of his skin, feeling the rise and fall of his chest beneath my hand as he breathed. Things I would not have noticed before became glaringly obvious now.

Soon enough I felt my hound relax under my touch reassured that I was indeed back, alive, and I was going to be ok. But then suddenly Kiché pricked his ears and looked over at the door. My eyes followed his movements as he turned around and raised his head, sniffing the air.

Gritting my teeth I pushed my arms underneath me as I tried to sit up and looked for a weapon to arm myself with. Something was coming. Kiché did not seem worried but I had not lived as long as I had in these times without being cautious. I would not meet whatever was coming lying down.

I heard footsteps approaching my door and braced myself for the worst. The black iron latch shook slightly as whoever was on the other side engaged the mechanism to open the thick wooden door wide.

I let out the breath I hadn’t been aware I was holding when I saw the familiar face. It was the Elvin assassin Zevran, one of my companions. He was carrying a tray bearing a simple clay mug, bowl, and square of white linen. His eyes widened slightly when he caught sight of me half sitting, half lying on the bed. Closing the door behind him he swiftly crossed the room, placing the tray on the desk with one hand, using the other to gently push me back down.

“Ah, my dear Warden friend!” he exclaimed jovially as he settled me back onto the bed. “As happy as I am to see your beautiful green eyes again, we must not overexert ourselves no?” A shiver went down my spine when I heard his Antivan accent. His voice was warm with an exotic burr to it that never failed to make me blush despite being dedicated to another.

Zevran’s pale blonde hair, cut shoulder length with half of it pulled and braided back to show his pointed ears was a stark contrast to his dusky skin. Slender like all elf folk, he was shorter than me by a few inches. His face was slender as well with dark brown eyes, a slim nose and high cheekbones and he had a dark, elegant double curved line tattoo on the left side of his face.

But what he lacked for in height he made up for in character. Zevran was witty, charming, practical, and deadly. Born into an Antivan whorehouse, bought by the assassin guild known as the Crows and trained to be one of them, Zevran had not had what one would call a typical childhood.

Our paths first crossed shortly after my journey to stop the Blight began. He had been hired by Loghain to kill me and Alistair and thankfully he failed. We defeated the ambush he had set up and with his failure his life was forfeit to the Crows, so he pledged it instead to me.

Few were happy with my decision to include an elven assassin into our ranks but I was not about to turn away any willing to join me in my fight. And I stand by my choice to this day. Zevran has more than once saved my life or the life of another of my companions traveling with us, and he was fun having around despite –perhaps even because of- his constant attempts to get into the pants of any female he crossed. And a few of the men.

“Zevran-” I started, when another fit wracked my body. Zevran gently lifted my shoulders, letting me breathe easier through the attack before setting me down once more. Reaching over for the clay mug he supported my head and brought it to my lips.

“Slowly now my friend,” he whispered. I sipped at the cool, life giving water the mug held, holding each mouthful for a few moments before letting the sweet moisture slid down my throat. Too soon Zevran pulled the mug away and I couldn’t help but let out a small whimper. Zevran chuckled.

“Soon my dear Grey Warden, you have been asleep for a long time.” Zevran settled himself on the bed next to me, leaning over to give Kiché a quick scratch behind the ears.

“Your hound has been most worried,” Zevran commented as Kiché panted heavily and leaned into his nimble fingers. “He has barely eaten or slept since the battle, and would not let us near you at first to tend your wounds. A true and loyal friend you are Kiché,” Kiché barked happily and wagged his tale before looking at me one last time and loping off the bed. Mabari hounds always were too smart for their own good, and I had no doubt that Kiché knew there was much Zevran and I needed to talk about.

“What-” my voice broke. I coughed once to clear it and tried again. “What happened?”

Zevran grinned at me. “Why, we won of course! The horde was brought low after you killed the Archdemon. It was rather strange that you wanted to take a nap so suddenly after the battle, but with everything that we had done I assumed-”

I lay my hand on his knee, stopping him mid-sentence. “You know that’s not what I meant,” I said softly. The grin melted from his face, and his eyes grew dark as he nodded.

“Yes, I know.” He sighed. “We did win; I did not lie about that. You did kill the Archdemon. The Darkspawn horde was left leaderless with demon and generals dead, and the masses that we did not slaughter in the city quickly scattered. Our allies suffered minimal losses, thanks to you. We’re still hunting down the odd stragglers, but for the most part the city has been cleared. After the battle, you-” he paused and looked away from me before meeting my eyes. “You were gravely wounded. If you had not taken Wynne up to the tower with you…”

I said nothing, laying there watching the play of emotions across his handsome face. I already knew what had happened to me. The pain I felt in my body, the new scars, seeing my parents, I think I already knew how badly I had been wounded, but it lightened my heart to hear how well our allies had done.

“How long?”Zevran didn’t answer at first, staring instead down at my hand on his knee. I felt my mouth grow dry again. Zevran was not usually the quiet one, and his reluctance to answer me filled me with no small amount of dread.

“How long Zevran?” I asked more forcefully. He looked me in the eye and said deadpanned, “Almost two months.”

My mind reeled. No wonder those marks on my arm were so healed, my voice so broken. I had lost two months of my life. I frowned and looked down at myself. But after two months, with such an accomplished healer as Wynne tending me with potions and salves, I should have been up on my feet by now.

I swallowed twice to clear my throat. “How bad.” I felt Zevran’s hand upon mine.

“As far as Wynne could tell, most of the bones in your body were broken. When you drove that great sword into the Archdemon’s skull, there was this pillar of light that grew brighter and brighter before it exploded, throwing you into a turret and knocking us to the ground. The force of your collision shattered your bones.”

I nodded as I listened to the monotone of his voice. He was trying to hide just how scared he was. It must have been frightening for them all seeing that, seeing me broken and bleeding on the top of that tower. I could only imagine what everyone, especially Alistair must have gone through, waiting all this time to see if I would live or die.

The pain I was in made more sense as well. My body had been ripped, shattered, stretched, torn, shredded, stitched back together, and then laid inert for almost six weeks. As a result most of my muscles had atrophied, and I doubt Wynne would have anything in her extensive healing repertoire for that. The only thing I could do now was quaff some potions for the pain and get moving as soon as possible.

“What of the rest of our companions? Where are they, are they ok?” My heart pounded in my chest at this question. Oh Maker, let Alistair be alright, I prayed.

“Oh of course, of course!” he said with a chuckle, patting the air with his hands. “Just your average, run of the mill cuts, scrapes and lacerations, all healed up by now. The worst was a nasty gash Wynne caught from a Genlock blade when my back was turned, but she’s alright now. She and Leliana are tending the wounded at the Chantry. Sten, Shale and Oghren are helping with all the heavy lifting such as burying the dead and moving the rubble and your fellow Grey Warden Alistair is off doing some kingly business. Morrigan however-” I held up my hand to stop him.

I knew Morrigan was gone. She told me as much the night before the battle. She would stay, she would fight, and when the battle was done she would leave, carrying Alistair’s bastard child. It was the deal I had made with her to save both our lives.

We had discovered that in order to slay an Archdemon, a Grey Warden had to die. Darkspawn are soulless creatures. And when an Archdemon dies its soul enters the nearest body bearing the darkspawn taint. If that creature is another darkspawn, the Archdemon lives on and is essentially immortal. But Grey Wardens share the taint as well. The initiation of a Grey Warden is to drink darkspawn blood and willingly infect themselves with their taint. If the initiate lives, they are a Grey Warden. And if a Grey Warden is the one to deal the death blow to an Archdemon, then that soul enters the body of the Grey Warden drawn by the taint it bears. But since a Grey Warden already has a soul, the soul of the Warden and the Archdemon cancel each other out and both are eliminated.

It was a death sentence to kill an Archdemon and it was between me, Alistair, and an Orleasian Grey Warden named Riordan who were to give up our lives and try to slay the demon, but Morrigan came up with a solution. She would lie with Alistair, he would get her with child and that child, bearing the taint as well, would call to the soul of the Archdemon when it was killed and absorb the Old God soul, cleansing it of its taint.

It was a deal I had made without the knowledge or consent of any of my other companions. I considered myself a good and honorable woman, doing what I felt was right no matter the circumstances. Sometimes, though, the circumstances were not ideal to say the least and so the choices I had to make were hard. But I had already given up so much, seen so much death and destruction I could not pass up that chance to save us. We would live I decided. We would live now and deal with the consequences later.

Zevran and I sat quietly in the room together for a few moments. We had never shared a bed or more than a few flirtatious words, but I often felt that I was closer to him than any other barring Alistair. His calm and easy acceptance of me and my choices made it easy in turn for me to talk to him. I did not fear being judged or condemned by this surprisingly complex man. It was not a quality most other people possessed and I had long ago learned to nurture and cherish the friendships that blossomed with those few who did.

My mind was abruptly torn from my musing by an odd growling noise. At first I thought it was Kiché and made to call him, but another chuckle from Zevran stopped me and I looked at him curiously.

“But of course,” he said with a smile. “With all this talking I almost forgot why I was here.” He motioned to the bowl still on the tray. “We have been feeding you broth and water by placing linen over your mouth and letting it flow down your throat. I was not expecting you to be awake, so I am afraid I have no spoon for you. But from the sounds of it, you could use to have something in your belly, no?”

I laughed weakly and nodded. It was hard to stay serious around such an infectious grin.

“But please Zevran, help me sit up first? I don’t feel like dribbling broth all down my front,” I started to ease myself up slowly. Zevran moved to help me, supporting my back and propping pillows behind me till I was reclining. The sheet, however, had remained in place when I moved and very little was keeping me modest. I did my best to ignore it, for to fix I would have had to bring attention to it.

Zevran tsked at me once we were done, and shook his head sadly. “As happy as I am to make you comfortable my beautiful friend, I am sorely wounded that you would so harshly take from me the opportunity to give you a sponge bath!” He grinned lecherously at me as he reached for the bowl. I grinned back at him but weakly waved his hand away as he brought the bowl to my lips.

“Speaking of baths why are you tending me?” Why wasn’t Alistair doing that? “And if I’ve had Wynne working on me for two weeks, why am I not healed yet?”

“Ah, see now there is the tale. I am too pretty to work hard, too hard to tend the wounded gently, and all the foreign ambassadors were getting nervous having an assassin around, so I was delegated nursemaid. Wynne has visited you when she could, but as soon as it became clear you weren’t going to die from your wounds she tended to those who needed her more as she knew you would want her to.” He looked at me and saw the unspoken question in my eyes, answering it before I needed to give it a voice.

“Your love did not leave your side for days,” he assured me. “He waited here for you, hoping you would wake. Duty eventually called him out, but as soon as he can he comes back here and waits by your side.”

Tears filled my eyes at those words, and a tender part of my heart that I did not know was hurting was soothed. I blinked them away quickly as Zevran boldly raised a finger to gently stroke my cheek.

“He is a very lucky man, your Alistair,” Zevran whispered to me. I couldn’t speak. I could only stare into his eyes as his warm palm cupped my face and he leaned in, pressing his lips softly against mine.

The kiss was there and done in a moment but my lips still burned. Zevran pulled away as if nothing had happened and moved the bowl to my lips again. Stunned, the small part of my brain that still functioned at that moment tried to order my hands to take control of the bowl and drink so Zevran would not have to feed me like an infant.

It worked at first. But atrophied muscles don’t often work the way you intend or want them to and my arms did not even have the strength to hold up a simple bowl of broth. I almost dropped it as soon as Zevran took his hands away. But he was quick and caught it before anything spilled on me.

“Blood and damnation!” I swore. A curse I had picked up from our Orleasian bard friend Leliana. Zevran said nothing, just smiled patiently at me as he put my hands on the bowl again, cupping them with his own. I controlled the bowl while he lent his strength to hold it up. I looked at him, grateful for his understanding and was struck all at once by his duality.

He was an assassin, a thief, a man whose hands were covered in the blood of the people he had killed for money. But now those hands, those quick, deadly, bloody hands, they fed me. They were kind, gentle, and had cared for me for weeks. I had always known there was another side to this charming charismatic rogue and I was glad he was letting me see it at last.

But I was still so full of questions! I guess being asleep for months would do that to a girl, so I continued to pepper Zevran with them between sips of the lukewarm broth.

“Where are we?” I asked as I let my eyes roam around the room again. It was not a place I recognized, although I had to guess that I was a few floors up from the ground by the look of the light.

“You my dear Lurianna are still at Fort Drakon. It was not safe to move you much further at first, and when it was safe, Wynne was against it. She feared she had missed something that kept you sleeping, and that moving you would only make things worse.” Zevran’s eyes were locked on my face as he watched me sip at the bowl we both held.

“There has been much talk of moving our companions to the currently vacant Arl of Denerrim’s estate, but few are willing to actually do so. Wynne and Leliana are staying with Arl Eamon, but only to be closer to the Chantry where they are most needed at the moment. But for the rest of us, we are here, waiting for you to wake.”

I nodded slowly, all my concentration focused on taking one slow sip after another. I would only make myself ill if I drank too much, too soon.

“Why am I still bandaged up?” I glanced down at my bound torso as I took another sip.

“The worst of your flesh wounds was where one of the dragon’s talons rent your armor and gouged you from belly to breastbone,” he said grimly. “Thankfully it wasn’t bad enough to spill your insides out so to speak, but it was deep and a stubborn infection set in quickly preventing it from healing properly. Last time the bandages were changed, it looked to be doing much better. Wynne said that with luck sometime this week they can be taken off entirely.”

“I take it you’re to report on my condition when you leave here?” I pulled away and leaned back, belly full for now. Zevran put the empty bowl back on the tray and brought the mug to my lips again.

“Indeed. I will first go to Wynne for she will want to see for herself that you are alive and well once again, and then I will find Alistair, providing of course he doesn’t find me first and decapitate me for not telling him right away,” he said dryly. I chuckled at that, waving the mug away.

“I thought you could handle yourself Zevran?” I commented slyly.

“Oh my dear Lurianna, I can. You can be rest assured of that,” he replied. “But I know how much it would wound you if I harmed even the tiniest hair on his fair head, so I choose to spare you that pain and be about my business as quickly as I can.”

With that he stood up, resettling everything on the try. My eyelids began to feel heavy. Maker, I was so tired already! I tried to slide down into a more comfortable sleeping position, but I moved the wrong way and felt something pull deep inside me in protest. The pain wasn’t the worst I had felt in my life, but it was enough to make me gasp.

Zevran was back to me in an instant, and seeing what I was trying to do he sat down on the bed again and wrapped my arms around his neck.

“Hold on tightly my lovely lady,” he whispered in my ear. “I will see you are at ease before I leave you.”

He began clearing the pillows from behind my back, and I was just so tired I lay my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes. I breathed deep and was oddly soothed by his scent of warm leather and spicy male. I felt his arms wrap around my back, his hands splaying over my shoulder blades as he leaned forward, lowering me down onto the bed.

It was at that moment of course that I heard the handle of the door rattle again as someone else came into my room.

“Well. Isn’t this a lovely surprise?” drawled a wondrously familiar voice. My eyes flew open in shock and surprise as I raised my head and looked over Zevran’s shoulder to the doorway, our arms still wrapped around each other. I gasped and felt Zevran’s arms tense possessively around me for the briefest of instants when he recognized the voice.

“Alistair!”


	3. Lovers Reunited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lurianna and Alistair reuinite

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue may have been taken from the game. I honestly can't remember XD

Alistair strode swiftly through Fort Drakon, and those men who had taken up stations on the lower levels were quick to get out of the way of their new king.  They knew why he was here, why he strode with such purpose towards the higher levels.

Ages ago, in the time of the Tevinter Imperium, mages built this tower fortress on top of a mountain as a symbol of their power and might.  The city of Denerrim grew up around it, and it was used as a Tevinter outpost until the fall of the Imperium.  Since then the fort had seen various usages as garrison, dungeon, and palace, depending on the tastes on the current leader of the loud, sprawling city.

Late every morning Alistair left his quarters on the top floor of the fortress, and early every evening he returned to her, watching over her as she slept, waiting for her to wake; Lurianna, the Hero of Fereldan.

After the battle with the Archdemon, Alistair had commandeered the top two floors for himself, Lurianna, and the rest of their companions, although with Wynne and Leliana dividing their time between the Chantry and the Arl Eamon’s estate, they only needed the one floor.

Lurianna was in the first room at the bottom of the stairs leading to the top of Fort Drakon, where the final battle was fought.  When bringing her broken body down, they thought only to get her settled somewhere quickly and that was the first room they saw.  The others had taken quarters around her, and her room became the lynchpin that kept them together those first few days despite their various duties putting the shattered pieces of Denerrim back together.

The second floor was empty, on Alistair’s orders.  Although he had not had his coronation ceremony yet, he has still taken on the duties of an active king.  And with being so new to the throne he feared retaliatory attempts on his beloved’s life while she slept.  At least this way if something happened, anyone spotted entering that floor who was not a companion would be suspect.  That was why he did not leave her those first few heart wrenching days.  He ignored the duties that clamored for his attention, opting instead to sit by her bedside, hold her hand, watch the slow, even rise and fall of her chest.  And pray to the Maker every second for her to open her bright, beautiful green eyes, look at him, and smile.

It was also why he had asked Zevran to care for her when he wasn’t there.  Alistair didn’t like the elf much.  He had seen the way Zevran looked at Lurianna, and didn’t trust him with her one bit.  But he did trust the man to keep her safe.  Who better than an assassin to protect her from assassins?

Alistair stopped and braced himself against a wall as he remembered Lurianna lying so pale and still in that bed.  Her bright red hair, kept so neat and clean even on the road and always pulled up into a tidy tail at the back of her head that nevertheless managed to let a few wisps of hair escape, was dark and matted with the blood and gore of battle.  Her skin, once so fair and darkened to a dusky olive tone by their days traveling Fereldan, was pale as porcelain from blood loss, making the slender tattoos curling over her right eye and left cheekbone stand out even more.  As tall as he was, as slender as an elf and stronger in will than the most stubborn dwarf, she seemed so small and frail, lying in that bed.  He was so sure she would die.

Scrubbing his face with his hand as if he could wipe away the very memories themselves, he straightened himself and moved on.  He was near his rooms now.  He would drop everything there and go to her again, hoping something had changed.

The first week she was unconscious, all they had was hope.  The third week they worried, but still had faith that she would wake up, and soon.  In the fourth week those hopes slowly started to drain away, bit by bit, day by day.  And now here they were, six weeks since that fateful day and the hope was draining away faster than ever.  Even he was starting to think she may never wake up.

But a small part of him still believed every night when he came to her, that this would be different.  This time, she would wake when he opened that door, and reach for him with that warm, brilliant smile of hers.

Reaching her room at last, Alistair placed one hand on the handle and took a deep breath to brace himself.  This was always the hardest part, this moment before not knowing, the inevitable hope as he pushed down on the handle, and the crushing disappointment when the door swung open and he saw that nothing changed.

Opening the door this time, Alistair stepped into the room and froze at what he saw.

Zevran was sitting on the bed beside Lurianna, and he had lifted her so she was leaning into him with her head cradled on his shoulder with their arms wrapped around each other.  She was naked except for the bandages around her chest and the sheet that he saw was barely covering her modesty.  He felt cold and hot all at once and something inside him, something primal, wanted him to roar out in anger and denial.

But Alistair was not a man who often gave into what little temper he had and he tamped it down now.

“Well.  Isn’t this a lovely surprise?” he drawled instead.  Lurianna’s head shot up from Zevran’s shoulder at the sound of his voice, and her emerald green eyes grew wide in surprise.

“Alistair!” she cried out happily, one arm reaching for him as a smile lit up her face.  Alistair felt the rage drain away at that, although he wanted to by angry with what he saw.  He wanted to charge in, rip Zevran away from Lurianna and throw him out of the room, but he didn’t.

He was the one she was looking at.  He was the one she cried out for.  He was the one who made her face light up with the joy he saw on it now.  And despite the fact that she still had one arm wrapped carelessly around the elf’s shoulder, he was the one she reached for.  And how could he stay angry when he was so relieved that she was awake at last?

“Alistair!  So good of you to see you my friend, I was just about to come and let you know the good news,” Zevran said as he lowered Lurianna down and stood up from the bed, turning to the Grey Warden-turned-king with a smile.

“Were you now?” Alistair asked sarcastically as he made his way over to Lurianna’s side, drawing the sheet up over her breasts and glaring at the elf as he did so.

“Yes!  Of course!  Well, after I got Wynne first, as we agreed,” Zevran prattled on merrily as he picked up the tray again and moved towards the door.  Pausing to look back at Lurianna on the bed, he caught Alistair’s eye and assassin and king stared daggers at each other from across the room for a few moments before a tired voice sighed and interrupted them.

“Are we really going to do this here?” Lurianna asked wearily.  “I’m tired and not in the mood to deal with all this male territorial dominance right now.”  She knew it had always been like this between them, each vying for her affection, but Maker’s breathe, couldn’t they do it somewhere else this time?

Alistair broke eye contact first and had the grace to look abashed.  “You’re right love, I’m sorry,” he said as he sat down beside her and gently took her hand in his.  Lurianna looked pointedly over at Zevran standing nonchalantly by the door, until he sighed and inclined his head in apology.  Lurianna nodded back.

“Thank you both,” she said as Zevran turned to leave.  “Oh, and Zevran?   Could you take Kiché with you when you go?   He needs to get some exercise and being put to work would be the best thing for that.”

Kiché’s head shot up from where he had been lying at the foot of the bed and he gave an indignant huff, licking his jowls at her.  “Now none of that mister,” Lurianna chided.  “You have been lazing about here with me, and now that I’m up if not exactly about, you can start doing your fair share to help this city.”  Kiché lowered his ears and whined pitifully.  All in the room couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ah, come along now my furry friend,” Zevran chuckled as he opened the door for the pair of them. “You like digging yes?  Let us see if we can find you some holes to make.  Maybe you’ll uncover a nice bone or two while you’re at it.”  Kiché barked happily at that and led the way out of the room, tail wagging.  Zevran nodded to the couple and closed the door behind him as he followed the hound.

Lurianna and Alistair barely paid heed to his passing, their attention focused instead on each other.  She studied Alistair, taking in the familiar lines of his strong, handsome face.  His blue eyes, already so bright, were brighter still now that they saw her awake, and his fair blonde hair had a slightly shaggy look to it, as if he hadn’t been able to properly tend it for several days.  And his cheeks and jaw were shadowed with the first hints of a growing beard.

“Blessed Andraste,” Alistair breathed as he took in the welcome sight of Lurianna awake and well before him.  “I was beginning to worry you’d never wake up.  How do you feel?”

Despite having been asleep for months, she looked little different than when he last saw her passing through the gates of Denerrim with Wynne, Zevran and Oghren, heading to the fortress to take on the Archdemon.  There were dark smudges under her eyes, and her skin was still paler than normal from lack of sunlight, but aside from that she looked well enough.

She left him behind at the gate with the rest of the army, saying that Fereldan could not afford the risk of losing its king so soon after finding him.

 _You need to stay here love_ , her words from that day echoed in his head.  _It will bolster the strength of the army, seeing their king fighting beside them and we cannot risk the throne falling back into Anora’s hands so soon after we freed it from her._

As much as it had galled him to be left behind and as worried as he was for her, fighting without him, he had to concede her point.  They had not come this far only to have it all lost by a stray arrow or lucky blow from a Darkspawn blade.

So he stayed with the main force, clearing the city of the invading Darkspawn, doing his best to keep his mind off of Lurianna and what she might be facing, when there was a great roar from the tower and a great pillar of light, followed swiftly by a blinding flash.  Defenders and invaders alike were stunned by the display and once they had regained their wits, Alistair had left orders to carry on the fighting while he gathered the rest of the companions and headed to the fortress.  He, if no one else, knew what those signs meant.  The Archdemon was dead.  They had won.  The only question at the time that had spurned him on was what had befallen Lurianna and the others.

Lurianna saw him studying her, and smiled.  “I’m fine love,” she said, squeezing his hand reassuringly.  “I’m in pain no matter what I do, and all I want is to sleep, but that will pass in time.”

“Wait, Wynne said she had done everything she could for you.  You were healed, aside from that gash on your chest.  Why do you hurt so much?” Alistair asked frowning.

She sighed.  “Alistair, I’ve been practically torn apart and sewn back together then lay unconscious for months.  I may be healed, but my muscles haven’t moved for so long, it hurts when they do anything! That’s all.  I doubt Wynne could do much more than give me a few potions now.”

“So Zevran told you what’s been happening since you fell?”

“Mostly,” Lurianna admitted, and went on to recount what had happened since she woke to when he came into the room, omitting the kiss.  She would tell him, she just did not have the strength to deal with the consequences right now.  “That’s why Zevran was so…hands on…with me.  I can’t really move much on my own right now, I need a lot of help my love.  Or is it ‘my king’ now?” she asked with a mischievous smile.

“No, not yet,” Alistair said with a chuckle.  “I’ve taken on active duty, but haven’t been officially crowned yet.  Eamon thought it was best that we wait for you to wake up, that it was better for the people to see their Hero at the coronation, and…you know…the wedding…” his voice trailed off as he blushed furiously.

Now it was Lurianna’s turn to frown.  “Hero?” she echoed.

“Yes, that’s what everyone’s been calling you, and I was planning on giving it as an official title at the coronation,” Alistair explained.  “And besides, isn’t it true? You did just save Fereldan from a Blight, and killed an Archdemon practically single handily.  Wouldn’t that qualify to make you a hero?”  Lurianna waved the notion away weakly, noticing that it hurt a little less this time than it did before.

“I did what I felt was right, nothing more,” she said dismissively.  “I won’t said I didn’t do some amazing things, but what kind of person would I be if I sat back to watch it all?”

“You wouldn’t be the woman I fell in love with,” he said simply.  “By the way, you’re still okay with all this right?  Me being king, us getting married, I wouldn’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.”

Lurianna started to answer but stifled a yawn instead.  The excitement of seeing Alistair was wearing off and her weariness was returning full force.  Her eyes heavy and half closed, she somehow found the strength to answer him through the fatigue that was clawing at her.  “Yes Alistair, I’m sure,” she said wearily.  “A couple knocks to the head and lying supine for months isn’t going to change my mind.  I remember what you told me, about it being difficult for Wardens to have children, but we’ll find a way to make everything work.”

“I love you Alistair,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes.  “And for me, that’s all I need.”

Alistair couldn’t speak for a moment after hearing such a simple declaration from her.  All he could do was squeeze her hand in return and smile some more, and marvel at how lucky he was to have such an amazing woman by his side, and how lucky Fereldan would be to have this Grey Warden hero as their queen.

“Well, I err…uh…” Alistair found himself tongue tied.  Coughing to clear his throat, he tried again.  “I think it best if I let you rest now,” he said.  He hadn’t missed the signs of growing weariness in her face, and he wanted her to get whatever she needed to heal as fast as she could.

Leaning forward and placing a kiss on her forehead, he made to stand up but found himself held fast by a surprisingly strong grip.  Looking down in surprise, he saw Lurianna’s hand clamped down on his own.

“Please don’t go,” she asked when he met her eyes.  “Stay with me?”

“Lurianna, I don’t think you’re in any shape to…” Alistair trailed off with a smile in his voice.

“Not that and you know it!” she exclaimed, blushing.  She dropped her gaze and her hand, letting it fall back to the bed.  “I just don’t want to be alone.” Alistair crooked one finder under her jaw and lifted her chin to look at him.

“Now how can I say no to that?” he asked.  Lurianna smiled, and watched him as he walked around to the other side of the bed, peeling off his tunic and breeches as he did so.  She admired the play of hardened muscle beneath the smooth skin on his hard frame.  Muscles developed in Templar training, and honed battling Darkspawn, abominations, and demons.

She thought back through all their trials, tribulations, and battles, to the first time she met him at Ostagar almost a year ago, when he was a new Grey Warden recruit.  He was giving some agent of the Chantry a hard time, and she became endeared to him right away.  He was handsome, funny, and boyishly charming.  And as they traveled together, she saw that he was also brave, honest, loyal, and like her, willing to do what he thought was right.

Lurianna wasn’t sure how it happened.  But along the road, through their conversations, and the small, meaningful gifts they would give each other, they had fallen in love.  And Lurianna had decided long ago that she would not let him go.  She had already lost her family; she refused to lose him as well.

So when the lords of Fereldan asked her to choose a new ruler for the kingdom, King Cailan’s widow Anora, daughter of the traitor Loghain and just as ambitious and power hungry as her father or Alistair, she chose swiftly.

 _Alistair will be king and I shall rule beside him._   She remembered her voice echoing out with such strength and conviction over the assembled lords and ladies of the Landsmeet, and she never regretted her choice.  Alistair had not been raised to be king, but he was the son of king Maric, half brother to King Cailan, and he had many qualities that would make him a good ruler.  And with her being the last surviving daughter of a noble house, she gave him that tie to the nobility that he needed to help cement his claim to the throne.

Lurianna came back to herself as Alistair drew back the covers on the bed and slid beneath them, naked except for his small clothes.  Lying next to her, he slid his arm under her shoulders and gently rolled her onto her side so she could curl into him.  Nuzzling into the crook of his neck, Lurianna slid one arm across his chest, and wrapped her leg around his, effectively pinning him to the bed.

“Goodnight, love,” she mumbled into his neck, sighing in contentment as she closed her eyes and let her body relax.  Alistair kissed the top of her head, holding her close with one arm around her shoulders, holding her hand in his.

“Sleep well my dear,” he whispered, but her body had already fallen into that boneless state that indicates deep sleep.

Rest was more elusive for Alistair.  Instead he watched the play of light of the setting sun across the room, content to hold the woman he loved in his arms and let his mind wander, free of any real worry for the first time in months.

A few hours later, before the sun had fully set, he heard voices out in the hallway outside the room.  Alistair watched the door, bracing himself.  He knew it was most likely one or more of the companions returning to their own rooms for the night, but it was also not uncommon for them to drop in to check on Lurianna before they retired.  And he could only assume that word had spread by now that she was awake.  His concern now was that no one coming in to visit would wake her.

Alistair saw the handle on the door press down as it swung inward, and a familiar, matronly face peered around the door.

“Oh my,” Wynne said softly when she saw Alistair in bed with a sleeping Lurianna. “Are you sure you two should be so…vigorous with her just woken up?” Wynne smiled as she walked into the room.  Zevran followed bearing another tray with two mugs, a bowl and some fruit, and Kiché bounded in behind them both, circling round to Alistair’s side as Wynne bent over Lurianna.

“She just didn’t want to be alone,” Alistair explained in a whisper.  His free hand dropped down to stroke Kiché’s head when the hound sat beside him on the floor, one paw placed questioningly on the bedspread.  Wynne made a non-committal sound as she reached to gently turn Lurianna on her back.

Wynne was a mage of the Fereldan Circle of Magi.  Alistair and Lurianna had made her acquaintance when travelling to the Circle Tower to ask for help, and had found the circle in ruins.  One of the senior mages had gone mad, calling for others to break free of the yoke of the Templars, knights of the Chantry trained to fight mages and stationed in every mage tower everywhere to keep constant watch on those living and working magic from within.

The Chantry said it was to keep mages from taking over the world again, like in the days of the Tevinter Imperium.  But many mages simply saw it as a way to keep them imprisoned for most of their lives.  And while for the most part those mages living –some would say imprisoned –in the tower lived and worked alongside the Templars peacefully enough.  But there were some who balked at the ‘oppression’ of mages, and the fact that once a child is seen to have magical talent they are ripped from their families and thrown into the circle, never to live a fully ‘normal’ life again.  And sometimes they chose less than ideal methods to express their displeasure at the status quo and pressed for change in destructive ways.

Wynne had spent most of her life in the Circle of Magi, and when the senior mage Uldred went mad, unleashing blood mages and abominations on the tower, she gathered the younger apprentices on the lowest level of the tower and did what she could to protect them from the terrors roaming the halls of the higher levels.  At the beginning of the crisis the Templars had closed the doors leading into the tower, sealing in those few mages who remained.  They were waiting for Chantry reinforcements to invoke the Right of Annulment when Lurianna and Alistair appeared.  The Right of Annulment would have granted the Templars leave to slaughter any mage they found, on the bases that they ‘could’ be an abomination or a blood mage.

Lurianna managed to convince the templar commander to let her and her party through the doors, determined to cleanse the tower and save what mages they could to join her army.  Wynne and the apprentice survivors were the first ones she met entering the tower.  Wynne offered what help she could to help Lurianna save the circle and once the tower was cleared, she stayed by their sides afterwards.

An accomplished healer and teacher, Wynne was in the twilight of her life.  She constantly referred to herself as an old woman but many looking at her would see she had quite a few years left in her yet.  Her eyes, though lined with age, nonetheless glowed with an inner youthful light.  She had a kind face which was softened by her pale white hair and was always ready with a word or two of wisdom for a pair of young Grey Wardens, often unsure of themselves and the path they walked.

“We’ve told the others that she’s woken up,” Wynne explained as she pulled back the covers that Alistair had drawn up over Lurianna.  Her fingers swept swiftly and surely over Lurianna’s ribcage, seeking any change in form or temperature that could signal underlying troubles.“I’ve also taken the liberty of telling them that they’re to leave her alone tonight, so the two of you shouldn’t be disturbed once we leave.  There will be plenty of time to coo over her recovery in the morning.”

“Yes, and our lovely indomitable healer has pressed me once again into indentured servitude, bringing more food and drink for our fallen leader,” Zevran lamented, indicating the tray he had set on the desk.  “Tsk.  Who would have known that such a beautiful face would hide such a harsh taskmaster?”

Wynne sighed at Zevran’s antics.  “You should know very well by now Zevran, if you come to me I will put you to work.”  She nodded at the door.  “But I think it best you leave for the moment, I need to remove her bandages.”

“Ah!  And so I go again, to keep watch over our leader and her king in their sleep.”  And with a wink and a flourish, Zevran bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Alistair, can you help me with these bandages?” Wynne asked when he was gone as she began unwrapping Lurianna.  Alistair complied, and together the two of them carefully made short work of the now-soiled wrappings, trying not to wake her.

“Ah good,” Wynne breathed as she saw the wound on Lurianna’s chest.  Still the deep red of healing flesh, the wound no longer looked raw or angry, and neither did it weep pus or fluid of any kind.  “We can leave the bandages off now.  All that’s left is for the red to fade to silver.  Tell me Alistair, did she say anything about how she was feeling before she slept again?”

“She said she was feeling tired, and that her whole body ached,” Alistair reported, pulling her back into his arms and drawing the sheet over her again, covering her bare breasts. “She said she felt so weak she couldn’t do much of anything under her own power.  And when I suggested we get you, she said there probably wasn’t much to be done except to get her up and moving.”

Wynne nodded absentmindedly as she rolled the old bandages up.  She would take them with her to be boiled and reused for those few who still needed her ministrations at the Chantry.  “I’m afraid she’s right about that.  Nothing more can be done for her except to make sure she gets plenty of food, exercise, and rest.  Her body will regain its strength soon enough.”  She smiled reassuringly at the young king.

“Should she be sleeping like this, so soon after waking?”

“She wasn’t asleep before Alistair,” Wynne explained.  “I told you I thought she suffered some damage to her spirit when she killed the Archdemon, and that’s what kept her from waking.  Whatever has happened these past months, her spirit is healed now, and it’s her body that needs the rest.”  She stood up from the bed and reached into one of the many pouched hanging on the belt that cinched the mage’s robe she wore closed around her waist.  Pulling out several vials of red, glowing liquid, she placed them on the desk next to the tray.

“When she wakes, tell her she can eat, drink, and move around as much as she likes so long as she doesn’t push or overexert herself,” Wynne instructed as she made ready to leave the exhausted couple to their rest.  “The harder she pushes herself, the longer it will take her to heal properly.”

Alistair nodded as Wynne opened the door to leave.  She looked back on the couple lying in each other’s arms in the bed.  Alistair had his arms wrapped around her again and had closed his eyes, seeking rest to rejuvenate himself for what promised to be a busy day the following dawn.  Kiché had circled round to his mistress’ side, and though he was lying down and his eyes were closed, his ears were perked for the slightest noise indicating danger to his beloved master.

And even in sleep, Lurianna looked happy to be reunited with her love, and through the new lines of age that pain had etched on her young face, Wynne sensed a calm in the young woman that had not been there before and looked forward to speaking with her about it in the coming days.

“Sleep well, your Highnesses,” Wynne whispered with a smile as she left them alone and gently closed the door behind her.

__


	4. Battle on the Tower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zevran fills Lurianna in on the last moments of the battle with the Archdemon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one definitely contains scenes from the game.

“Are you sure you wish to be up here my dear?” Zevran asked me as we walked out onto the top of Fort Drakon. “We can probably find you some lovely gardens untouched by the Darkspawn, and with plenty of beautiful flowers for you to enjoy if you want to take a walk in the sunlight.”

I sighed at my companion as I hobbled further from the shadowy stairwell that had brought us up here. It had been a week since I had awoken from my injuries and my days had been too busy for me to venture up to the top of the fortress yet. The day after I woke Alistair had me moved into the rooms he had taken over on the top floor of the fortress and through no small part of encouraging and demanding on my part, he was spending more time acting the part of the king and rebuilding Denerrim than he was at my side playing the worried lover.

Besides it wasn’t as if I lacked for company those first few days. Once Wynne had rescinded her threat to turn everyone into a toad if they disturbed me that first night they came to me en masse and we sat in the rooms I now shared with my love and we all ate, drank, and talked of everything and nothing, catching me up on the two months of their lives I had missed.

Reconstruction was well underway in the city of Denerrim thanks in a large part to my golem and Qunari companions Shale and Sten. Their strength was invaluable in clearing the rubble and raising new structures. Oghren and the dwarves that remained from Orzamar where helping with planning the reconstruction and the laying of foundations for new buildings. Most of the wounded had been healed and sent home thanks to Wynne, Leliana, and the other mages from the Circle. Only a few serious cases remained after so long and only my companions and a handful of mages remained behind to tend them. Kiché hardly ever left my side except for a few hours each day when I bade him to hunt on his own. It would do neither of us any good if he wasted away wandering the halls beside me. I discovered through these conversations that during my incognizance Alistair had appointed Zevran as my protector and nursemaid in his absence in addition to being messenger and errand runner for those between the tower and the rest of the city.

As for me, after insisting the city was more important and sending everyone back to their self appointed tasks my time after that was taken up hobbling around the top floors of the fort with Zevran by my side, building up the strength in my muscles again. We all still remained on the uppermost level and the floor below us remained sealed off from the rest of the world, not only on Alistair’s orders but mine now as well. Word had spread fast that the hero of Fereldan had awoken but I refused to let any other than my friends see me in the state that I was in. I feared it would do the people little good to see what a toll the battle had taken on my body and decided to play the part of the hermit until I could walk under my own power again.

“I will not have the people seeing their hero so weak,” I reminded Zevran as I limped across the blood stained stone, leaning heavily on the cane someone had found and brought to me. I grew stronger as each day passed but while my progress pleased and astonished Wynne, it felt agonizingly slow to me.

I looked around at the place where I had nearly lost my life. So many died here. Thankfully most of them were Darkspawn but just over two score of dwarves died here too, fighting the Archdemon and the Darkspawn. Fighting for me because I was the one who called them from their underground home. Though the bodies had long ago been taken away and the debris cleared the blood remained, baking into the stone as a stark reminder of what had happened a few short months ago. The ballistae at the four corners of the rooftop were still trained towards the centre where the largest pool of blood called to me.

I limped over and looked down. I could see the outline of the dragon’s skull in blood on the stone. A large, dark scorch mark encapsulated the bloody outline. I could only assume that came from the light everyone claims to have seen when the final blow was struck. _This is where the Archdemon fell. This is where I killed it._

Slowly I knelt on the warm stone, ignoring Zevran’s protest. I traced both outlines with my fingertips and looked up to the sky. It was a glorious day, the sky a shade of blue I had never seen before. I wasn’t sure if that’s because we were so high up or I was just that happy to be able to see it. The sun was shining down on us, it was just past midday and the heat would have been unbearable if not for the breeze that gently caressed my face as it blew past us. I closed my eyes and breathed deep, taking in the sounds and smells of the healing city from so far above it.

“This is where it happened,” I echoed my thoughts from earlier as I opened my eyes once more. My gaze was drawn to my left to one of the taller turrets between two ballistae where there was another rather large pool of blood at the base. “Is that where I fell?” I reached my hand up to Zevran without looking as with his help I staggered to my feet.

“Yes, that is where you landed,” he replied grimly. I nodded, my eyes never leaving the spot as I limped over and stared down at it.

“What happened?” I asked so softly I doubt Zevran would have heard it if he was human. He came to stand beside me, staring at the blood.

“You don’t remember?” his voice just as quiet. I looked at him for the first time since we had come here and smiled softly at him. “I think so, but I want to see it through your eyes.”

Zevran sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Very well my dear. Your wish is my command. But what, might I ask, do you remember?”

“Bits and pieces.” My gaze swept across the battlements. “I remember the fight to the gates, the battles at the marketplace and the Alienage where we killed the generals. I remember the fighting to get to the fortress, and through it to reach this place, but after that…” I shook my head “All I can see are bits and pieces, all thrown and jumbled together.”

“Very well,” Zevran said nodding. “I will start at the beginning, when we came through that door for the first time…”

***

We threw open the great doors that separated the rooftop from the rest of the fortress. Charging out into the open, we stopped in our tracks at the sight that greeted us. What I saw…only a man without a soul would have seen that and been unaffected.

The Archdemon had beaten us to the top of the tower and was making short work of the few human defenders who had sought refuge from the Darkspawn up here. I could see the vestiges of great power, and even a certain grace and beauty in the ravaged form. The dragon that the Archdemon used to be must have been quite the site before it was corrupted.

But whatever it was before now it was a dark, twisted thing. Red patches that seemed to ooze like sores covered its body, showing through the sickly purple-red of its armored hide. The front teeth of its upper jaw had grown too big for its mouth and hung down like fangs over the bottom jaw. Thick, sharp spines ran from the back of its skull to the tip of its tail, and the head was likewise armored in matching bony spikes. And its eyes were an evil yellow, glowing with anger and hatred.

As we watched, the Archdemon turned to look behind itself and seeing a few defenders gave one swipe of its club ended tail and sent them sprawling to the ground. A pair of archer opened fire in front of him, peppering his head and chest with arrows but this did not even slow the great beast. It reared up and lifted a foreleg as if to fend off the biting insects, then came down again and swept out its great neck, knocking one archer down and snapping up the other in its jaws.

I heard the crunch of bones as the Archdemon bit down on its hapless victim, before snapping its neck back and sending the archer soaring over the battlements to meet the ground far below. The first archer had not regained his feet and was trying desperately to crawl out of the way, but the poor bastard wasn’t fast enough. The Archdemon saw him and brought one huge clawed foot down on his back, crushing him and killing him instantly.

Facing the last four soldiers the dragon let loose a gruesome stream of billowing purple flames, setting those last few sword wielders afire. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the smell of their flesh roasting inside their armor.

It was then that the dragon caught its first sight of us. It took a step forward and roared, spreading its wings wide, daring us to come for it. It was then that we saw it was wounded. When poor Riordan fell to his death he had dealt the Archdemon a crippling wound, ripping apart the membrane on one if its wings so it could no longer fly. As dangerous as the dragon was on the ground it would have only been more dangerous in the air, able to attack us from above.

All this we saw in a matter of seconds, too late and too slow to save any of the poor bastards left alive on that tower. And soon enough there were none but us left alive at all.

“Zevran!” you bellowed at me, grabbing at the front of my leathers to get my attention. Your face was spattered with blood from the Darkspawn we had to cut through to get here, and in your eyes I saw a fierce determination the likes of which I had never seen from you before. It was in that moment that I knew we would win. You would not have it any other way.

But I was not so sure if you would live.

“Take Wynne and man the ballistae!” You pointed over to our right to the closest of the four ballistae that were stationed on top of the tower. Shouting to be heard over the screams of the dying far below and the roars of the Archdemon you gave me my orders.

“Keep them trained on the Archdemon, they’ll do more damage and distract him as we harry his flanks and keep the Darkspawn off you. Go!” You shoved me away and I grabbed Wynne, running as if all the demons of hell were on our tail. Behind me I heard the clear brassy notes of the horn you had on your belt ring out, calling for reinforcements, the sound followed swiftly by your war cry.

“FOR FERELDAN!” I heard you bellow. Soon a contingent of dwarves came billowing out of all entrances onto the rooftop as you and Oghren raced for the Archdemon surrounded by his Darkspawn thralls.

I had little time to think of anything else after that. I loaded the ballistae and fired it at the Archdemon, over and over again. I watched out for Wynne as well, keeping the few Darkspawn off her that escaped you as she cast her spells.

But I wasn’t fast enough one time and it almost cost Wynne her life. The Archdemon had leapt into the air and landed on the other side of the rooftop, too far away for the range of the ballistae we were manning but there was another one closer.

“Wynne!” I turned in time to see a Genlock raise its sword to take off her head. “Behind you!” I cried out, drawing my blades and running to her, knowing I would be too late. But something made Wynne turn at the last minute and the blade sliced through the muscle of her shoulder, lacerating the bone beneath.

As Wynne cried out and crumpled to the stone I leapt over her and drove my axe into the Genlock’s ugly skull, splitting that sharp toothed, lipless grimace in half as my dagger found that sweet spot between its ribs and pierced its heart. The Genlock was dead before it hit the ground and I turned to our fallen comrade.

“Are you well Wynne?” I turned in time to see her drink deep of a health poultice, followed swiftly by a lyrium potion.

“I need to cast Zevran,” she gasped, her face pale from the pain. I turned my eyes back to the battle watching for any coming our way. I didn’t see you or Oghren in the writhing mass of bodies at the feet of the Archdemon but I heard your cry again and knew you were still well in the fight.

“Come Zevran,” Wynne’s voice brought me back to her. “We need to get to that other ballistae and defend our friends.” She had cast a spell to close her wound and while I saw in her face that it still pained her, her face was grim and determined.

The rest of the battle is as much a blur for me as it is for you, I’m sure. There was no room to think of anything beyond where to place your sword and which way to lean to keep your head. The fighting was fierce; Maker, I had never seen so much blood in one place before! Every so often I would hear you calling out direction and encouragement over the din of screaming warriors and clashing swords and I even though much of your words were lost, I’m certain that the sound of your voice alone was enough to keep us all going.

And then, I saw something miraculous.

The dragon was not a quiet fighter, snarling, roaring and growling at those of us who tried to bring it down. Quite rude of it, no? You think after all we went through to get there and kill it, it would do the decent thing and die quietly. It let out especially high pitched screams whenever the ballistae bolts I fired hit their mark. But then the dragon made a new noise, one that could not help but draw all of our attention.

I had been loading another bolt onto the ballistae when I heard it. Not so much a scream, but an otherworldly shriek of pain that sent shivers down my spine. I froze and looked up from the ballistae to see the Archdemon on the stone, sorely wounded but still alive. There were no living Darkspawn to be seen and I saw gladly that you, Oghren and most of the dwarves you had called upon yet lived. One of those dwarves made for the Archdemon when your call stopped him.

“No!” you shouted to him, to all of us. “The last blow must be mine!”

Wynne and I sped down the ramp of the ballistae tower just as the Archdemon stirred. You ran towards the fallen beast, ripping a great sword out of the body of a fallen dwarf as you passed it. The dragon raised its head and opened its mouth to strike you, but you were too swift for it.

You ran under the arch of its neck and dropped to one knee, sword raised high and still sliding forward. Your momentum caused the sword to bite deep into the dragon’s throat, splitting its neck open. Blood and gore rained down upon you as the Archdemon collapsed to the stones with a bellowing cry.

You paused a moment looking down at the fallen creature, before using both hands to raise the sword above your head. Wynne and I were close enough to see the look on your face; you bared your teeth in a grimace of pure hatred as you screamed and drove the sword deep into the Archdemon’s skull.

As soon as you did a great pillar of light appeared, holding you fast. Whether it came from the heavens or the body of the Archdemon I could not tell. But I could see you as you continued to scream soundlessly, writhing as if you were trying to let go of the blade but were unable to do so. Wynne and I looked on helplessly as you struggled. We were unable to get close to you, there was…this… force…keeping us back.

But then the pillar exploded into a resounding flash of light, the shockwave throwing all who stood to the ground.

We were all stunned for those first few moments and it seemed as if the entire world had stopped with the explosion. I could not hear anything of the battle below us nor could I hear the breathing of Wynne lying so close to me. I found myself face down on the ground but fully intact. Pushing myself up I looked about me and saw most of the others starting to stand as well. I got shakily to my feet as Wynne sat up beside me, clutching her wound and groaning.

“I’m getting too old for this,” she moaned, rubbing her shoulder. The blast had knocked her on her back, aggravating her wound.

“A woman as beautiful and courageous as you is never too old for anything she sets her mind to,” I said as I reached out a hand and helped her up. Sensing movement out of the corner of my eye I turned, expecting to see you but saw Oghren instead, covered in blood and rubbing his head.

“By my ancestors,” he growled as he stomped towards us. “Those things pack a meaner punch than a bronto beast with a Darkspawn up its arse!”

Looking at our companions I had to admit we made quite the sight. The back of Wynne’s robe was torn and bloody from where she was wounded, and her normally fashionably styled hair had come loose of its matronly bun to leave strands of her hair wafting about her face in the late afternoon breeze. She still had hold of her enchanter’s staff and in her weariness was leaning quite heavily upon it to remain upright.

Oghren was bloody as well, but apparently unharmed. It seems his dwarven berserker rage served him well in the battle. His close cropped red hair was matted with sweat from the helmet he bore under one arm as he approached us, and one of the braids of his mustache had come undone to intertwine with the hair of his beard, but otherwise he seemed whole.

I could only imagine how I appeared to the others as we looked with stunned gazes upon the dead creature before us. I had sustained no real wounds in the fighting as you, Oghren and the rest of the dwarves had done a remarkable job keeping the Darkspawn away from the ballistae towers. My leathers had a little spattering of gore from the few that got past you but the worst damage I had been dealt was the aching of my muscles from working the ballistae. I admit I was a little disappointed in the fact that I was not able to bury my blades in more backs that day but if we all walked away from it then it was a battle well fought, no?

“Is everyone alright?” Wynne asked as I turned from them both and looked for you.

I had expected to see you rising from the ground like the rest of us, brushing yourself off and smiling that crooked half grin you have whenever we best a foe others think unbeatable. But I didn’t see you. I only saw corpses and for the longest moment I kept thinking that you were just beyond my sight, perhaps purposely so. You always did so love to tease me.

But then I saw the blood on the turret. The turret that was behind you as you drove the sword into the Archdemon. The turret whose base was clear before the blast but now boasted a crumpled, broken form.

“No,” I breathed to myself as I moved towards the lifeless form. I felt like I was dreaming as I ran towards the turret with Oghren and Wynne close behind me, my breathe coming faster as I recognized the glint of your armor even from so far off.

“Oh Maker,” Wynne whispered as we came upon you.

“By the stones,” Oghren muttered.

You lay on your back on the stone of the rooftop, still and pale. One arm and leg were bent underneath you, clearly broken. Your breastplate was rent in two by some slash of the Archdemon’s talons, and through the blood and glistening sinew I could see the white of bone. There was blood everywhere and I knew you had to be hurt more than we could see. I knelt by your head and gently brushed back strands of your fiery red hair, made even redder now by the matted blood. Wynne knelt down in the growing pool of blood around you and gently felt at your neck for a pulse.

None of us believed it was at all possible for you to still be alive, who could live after receiving such a wound? But Wynne happily surprised us all when she gasped out two words we never thought we would hear.

“She lives!”


	5. To Save a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The companions rush to save Lurianna's life

You must understand my dear; we all thought you were dead.  None of us expected to live to see the sun set that day but you surprised us all.  When we heard Wynne gasp out those two very welcome words, ah!  I tell you it was if the sun had risen for us all.

“Zevran, I need you to get that armor off her,” Wynne said.  I looked at her but she was already busy at her waist, drawing out lyrium and health potions.  “Oghren, I need you to fetch the pack she left by the doors that brought us here.  She’ll have bandages and medical aid in there.”

“On it,” Oghren grunted as he sprinted away.  Putting a rather large lyrium potion to her lips and throwing her head back, Wynne drank it down in one gulp, a feat I am sure would have impressed our dwarven friend had he been around to take note of it.  Drawing my dagger I began cutting at the ties of your armor and gently peeling the pieces off you, wincing as I saw the bone shards poking through the flesh of your arms and legs.

Soon I had you naked but for your smallclothes and spread-eagled on the stone to better tend you.  Just by looking at your limbs I could tell they were broken in more than one place and it was hard to tell where the blood ended and your wounds began, so covered in gore you were.  It was then that Oghren returned with your satchel and Wynne delved into it to bring out a needle and suturing thread.

“I need to sew her chest wound close before she bleeds out completely,” Wynne said to us as much as to herself as she threaded the needle.  She nodded to the health potions that were still lying at her side as she bent over you.  “Get her to drink those Zevran.  Pinch her nose shut and pour them down her throat, gently tilting her head back.  It will force her to swallow.”  She pushed the needle through your flesh.

The surviving dwarves had gathered around us as we worked over you.  They watched us for a few moments before one of them finally asked “Is there anything we can do to help mistress Wynne?”

“You mean aside from fluttering around me like a flock of restless pigeons?” she asked wryly, her gaze never leaving her work of sewing you back together.  “Yes, there is. Both arms and legs are broken.  We’ll need to splint them before we move her so I need anything you can find that’s stiff and straight.  Broken swords, axe handles, pole axes, anything.  I’ll also need more bandages and potions, as many as you can find.  Clean, hot water to wash her wounds, a room to tend her properly, and something we can slide under her to move her there.”

“And someone should send word to Alistair and our other companions,” I interjected as I poured the potions slowly down your throat as Wynne instructed.  Wynne’s eyes flickered over me, as much to take measure of my work as to question me about my instructions.  “Are you sure that’s wise?  He may not want to see her like this.”

“But if she wakes, she will want to see him.” See what I good friend I am?  Wynne pressed her lips together and nodded, turning back to her work.

“Right then,” Oghren declared as he turned to the dwarves.  “You heard her you nug humpers!  I don’t care how you do it, just get it done!”  The dwarves nodded grimly and scattered across the tower rooftop. Most disappeared down the stairs, while the rest scoured the dead for whatever they could find that would aid us in keeping you alive.

“Anything you need me to do healer?” Oghren asked as he turned back to us.  Wynne began to shake her head before stopping herself.  “Oghren, have you set broken limbs before?”

“Aye, a few,” Oghren nodded as he knelt down beside us.

“Good.  You and Zevran do what you can to splint her limbs, and be careful.  It looks like some of her bones have shattered.  There’s nothing I can do about that until I get this closed,” Wynne instructed as her reddening hands moved the needle rhythmically through your flesh.

I put aside the potion I had just opened and helped Oghren to straighten and splint one arm with some bandages from your bag and broken swords that the other dwarves had scavenged.  It was slow, painstaking work for we feared worsening your wounds or doing something to you that Wynne could not heal.  Thankfully however, once we had done the one arm, Wynne was finished sewing your wound and prepared to cast some sort of healing spell over you.

“I need you boys to stand back now, and don’t interrupt me.  I’m going to attempt to fuse the shards back together so they don’t cause any more damage when we set the rest of her bones.”  Wynne wiped your blood off her hands with a bit of spare cloth.  Tossing back another lyrium potion, Wynne closed her eyes and held her hands over you, one at your head and one at your heart.

Splaying the fingers of her hands as wide as she could she bowed her head and a faint blue glow began to emanate from her, slowly spreading across her body and down across yours.  Oghren and I stepped back from her casting and joined the dwarves a few paces away from where she worked over your still form.  One of the dwarves approached us with news of their progress.

“Sirs,” he said with a deferential nod.  “We’ve found a room at the base of the stairs that we’re preparing for the lady and my men have found a mostly intact table that should serve well enough to transport her once mistress Wynne give us the go ahead.  Any medical aides we’re finding are being put into that room, and there’s also a small kitchen a few floors down where I have some men stationed heating water.”

Oghren and I nodded at his report and I for one was quite please by their progress.  Dwarves always seemed taciturn creatures to me and from our days in Orzamarr they seemed quite introverted and petty as well, but I must admit when united in a common cause they are quite determined and efficient.

“What about the others?  Any word on them?” Oghren asked the fellow.  But before the gentleman could answer, there was a commotion by the doorway leading to the interior of the fort.

“Where is she?” I heard Alistair’s voice call out anxiously.  “Where is the Grey Warden?”  We looked up in time to catch his eye and Alistair made straight for us, followed swiftly by Leliana, Sten, Shale and Kiché.  I even saw Arl Eamon step onto the rooftop before my view was overtaken by Alistair’s breastplate.

“Where is she?” your lover demanded of me.  But catching the blue glow of Wynne’s work saved me from having to answer and when he made as if to move towards him I stepped in front of his path, holding my hands up in a pleading gesture.

“Out of my way Zevran,” he growled.  Alistair’s face was covered in a light sheen of sweat and his blonde hair was sticking up at odd angles.  I could tell that he was favoring his shield arm as well.  He must have knocked one too many Darkspawn back and strained something.  There was a small cut under his left eye, and he along with the others were spattered in the expected blood of our enemies, but like myself and Oghren they seemed to have fared well in the fighting below.

“I cannot do that my friend,” I shook my head sadly.  “Wynne asked not to be disturbed while she cast her healing and I can only assume it would be for good reason.”

“Is she alive Zevran?” Leliana asked me in her soft, sweet, Orleasian accented voice.  Her blue eyes were wide with worry for you, and her heart shaped face looked at me pleadingly.  She always seemed the most tender hearted among us despite the fact that she was a superb marksman and the best archer I have ever seen.  I could see her bow peeking over her shoulder alongside her now-empty quiver.  I knew without asking that every arrow she fired found its mark in a Darkspawn eye or throat.

“She lives for now,” Oghren replied grimly for me.  “She drove a sword into the skull of the Archdemon, and then there was this bright light and an explosion that threw her into the wall of the turret behind her,” I quickly filled in our companions on your injuries.  “Many bones are broken, some are even shattered.  Wynne is fusing the shattered pieces together so we can move her without further injury.  But beyond that…” I shrugged my shoulders helplessly.

Leliana gasped and covered her face with her hands, and her shoulders began to shake gently with her quiet sobs.  Alistair looked grief stricken as he gazed beyond us all to you and Wynne, one hand on Kiche’s head to keep him from running over and disrupting the casting.  Your hound was most distraught, wriggling and whining in place but he seemed to know enough not to leave Alistair’s side.  Our stoic Qunari friend Sten was staring at the great bulk of the Archdemon during all this before turning to us.

“The kadan killed the Archdemon,” he stated more than asked.  “Aye,” Oghren said, eyeing Leliana as he awkwardly patted her on the back in an attempt to comfort her.  Sten nodded once, his pale grey skin and blank features giving nothing of his emotions away.  “Then if she is to die, it is a good death.”

“I find myself gladdened by the prospect that it is not as squishy as it appears,” Shale rumbled in her gravelly voice as she crossed her arms across her broad chest.  The augmentation crystals you found for her seem to have fared well in the fight, as our stony friend still glowed and sparked.  I think that would be the closest she would ever come to saying she was happy you yet lived.

“What do we do now?” Alistair asked seemingly to himself and it was with those words that we noticed the blue glow from Wynne’s healing spell fade away and we all turned to see her slumped over you with fatigue.

“Now you can help me finish putting her back together.”  Wynne called out to us wearily.

Well of course at that we all surged forward eager to help the hero who stopped the Blight.  But thankfully Wynne had enough strength to issue orders, a trait that she undoubtedly learned as a teacher among the mages but was honed by watching you.

“Not all at once unless you want to suffocate her!” Wynne cried out exacerbated.  “Alistair, Zevan, and Leliana, I need you to set and splint her limbs and bind her chest tightly.  Sten, Shale, and Oghren, find us something to move her with once we get her bound up.  And the rest of you,” she passed a stern eye over the dwarven defenders and knights that had assembled on the tower.  “Stand back and let us work.”

There was a flurry of activity as we set about our appointed tasks.  Wynne and myself reset your broken limbs, admittedly a much easier task now that there were no longer shards of bone sticking out everywhere while Alistair gently cradled you in his arms as Leliana wound bandages tightly around your chest.  Kiché was lying on the blood soaked stone next to us, licking your hand and searching your face.  He seemed puzzled that you would not respond to him.  By the time we were finished, Oghren had arrived with Sten and Shale bearing a very battered looking wooden table top between them.

“Alright let’s get her on the platform.  Do we have a room ready for her?” Wynne paused to wipe the sweat from her brow.

“The dwarves seem to have finished setting up a room at the base of the stairs,” Sten remarked.  “I suggest we take her there.”  Wynne nodded.  “Alright then Sten, Oghren.  If you could get her on the table please?”

“No, I’ll do it,” Alistair interjected quickly and Sten and Oghren set the table top as close as they could next to you.  Alistair looked down into your pale, drawn face and brushed aside a lock of hair that had fallen onto your forehead before sliding one arm under your shoulders and the other under your knees.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted your battered and broken body just enough for us to slide the wooden platform beneath you before he gently set you down again.  He stayed kneeling at your side for several moments before Wynne stepped forward and placed her hand upon his shoulder.

“We need to move her Alistair,” she said to him softly.

“What?  Oh right, of course.” Alistair shook his head as if waking from a dream as he stood up and motioned for Sten and Shale to take up opposite ends of the platform and carry you down the stairs.

It was a somber and anxious procession that followed the tightly winding stairs down to the highest level of the fortress.  It was tricky to angle the platform just right to get it down the stairs and not spill you off it but Sten and Shale were able to accomplish the job and bring you safely to the room the dwarves had prepared.

Sten and Shale held the platform level with the bed as Alistair shifted you to the mattress and got you settled.  You had not stirred during the course of our ministrations and transporting you to the room you woke up in but I had noticed that you seemed to breathe easier once Wynne was finished casting and now we could all see the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slept.

There was much shuffling and manoeuvring once you were on the bed as we all tried to fit in that once small room.  Alistair was practically lying on the bed next to you, Wynne was doing a final examination, Kiché had jumped up on the bed between you and Alistair, and then myself, Sten, Shale, Oghren, Leliana, Arl Eamon and several knights and dwarves tried to fit themselves all into the same room.  I tell you it was quite the sight.  But thankfully Arl Eamon stepped forward, he had been kind enough to give us our space and allowing us come to terms with this tragedy and quickly ushered out those hangers on.

“Alright, everyone out and let us help the Grey Warden,” he directed his knights.  Even though Alistair had survived the battle, he had not rescinded his order that the arl be the regent until all was settled.  I think even if he had stopped to clear things with Alistair his words would have been for naught.  Our new king had eyes and ears only for you then.

“Gather the survivors and form patrols,” he ordered.  “I want each section of this city scoured for Darkspawn twice over before dark.  Start gathering our dead and injured and take them to the Chantry.  Any Darkspawn dead you find, pile them up and burn them once the patrols are done.  The light will help us catch any stragglers who try and sneak out after dark.”  I must admit he cut quite the striking figure in his red leather armor emblazoned with the hill and tower that was Redcliffe’s emblem, his steel grey hair and beard, and his eyes dark in a face set and determined.  If only he were a decade or so younger…

“At once my lord,” the knights bowed and left with those dwarves who had followed us down swift on their heels.  We all watched them go until our attention was drawn to Wynne as straightened from your bedside, placing both hands at the small of her back and wincing as she stretched out the kinks that had undoubtedly formed.

“That’s all I can do for her now,” she said wearily as she began packing the unused bandages and poultices into a bag.  “But we’ll want to give her a bath soon and clean off some of that blood.”

“Wait, what?” exclaimed Alistair, scrambling off the bed and coming around to confront Wynne.  “How can you say that?  You haven’t healed her broken bones, that gash on her chest is still bleeding, and she’s not even awake!  How can you say you’ve done all you can for her?”

Wynne stopped and stared at Alistair and I’m sure if he wasn’t in an uproar about your well being he would have wilted before her gaze.

“I’ve done as I promised,” Wynne said firmly in her soft, matronly voice.

Alistair shook his head and ran his hands through his hair.  “What are you talking about?”  I could tell he was growing increasingly frustrated.

“Before we stepped into the top of the tower, Lurianna pulled me aside,” she explained.  “‘Keep us alive Wynne,’ she said to me.  ‘None of us want to die today.  Do what you can to keep us alive, and move on to those who need you more.’” Her voice grew stronger with each word and I could see our matron healer draw strength from her words and yours.

She glanced over to your still form.  “She won’t die today, not from her wounds.  So now I honor the promise I made to her and I leave to tend those who need my talents the most.”

Alistair seemed to deflate at her words, but slowly he nodded his understanding.  “Do you know when she will wake?” he asked at last.  Wynne shook her head.

“That’s between her and the Maker now.”

None of us moved.  We all seemed frozen in that one moment of time looking at you, at each other, as Wynne’s words sank in.  I think we all believed that you would wake sooner rather than later and those words were the crack in the armor of our faith in you.  It was then that we first even remotely considered the possibility that you might not wake at all.

Alistair scrubbed his face with his hands and took a deep breath before squaring his shoulders.  “Then I won’t keep you from your promise,” he said gravely.  “But could I ask something of you as well Wynne?”  Wynne cocked her head questioningly at our young king.

“Could I put you in charge of the wounded at the Chantry?  You have my full authority to get whatever supplied you need to tend our people.  Round up some other mages if you have to.  And if the Templars want to get in your way, put them to work helping you at the infirmary.”

Wynne smiled at his brash tone.  “I will speak to the Reverend Mother about that, but I don’t think it would be too hard to convince her that we need to come together at this time.”  She inclined her head to Alistair and turned to take her leave.

“Wait Wynne,” Leliana called.  “Can I come as well? You could always use and extra pair of hands.”  Wynne smiled gently at our headstrong young bard.  “Of course my dear, but you will have to keep up.”  And with that our two lovely lady companions disappeared to start their mission of mercy.

Alistair turned to the rest of us.  “I know the only thing that holds you here is lying unconscious on that bed,” he gestured to you as you spoke.  “But myself and the people of Denerrim would greatly appreciate your help right now.”

Sten crossed his arms.  “Until the kadan wakes, I will stay,” he rumbled.

“Aye.  The Warden promised me we’d talk of honor once all this was done and I ain’t leaving till I get my pint from her,” Oghren declared.

“I am curious to see if it will wake, so I shall remain,” added Shale.  Alistair nodded his gratitude at their declaration.

“Then can I ask you to join in the patrols that are sweeping the city, and aiding them in whatever else they are tasked to do?” he asked.

“Ha ha!  So long as I get to crush some more sodding Darkspawn I’m happy!” Oghren said jovially.

“You mean I can make more heads go squish?  Yes, I would enjoy that.”

You know I think Shale actually smiled when she said that?

“Come one then you nug humpers!” our red bearded dwarven friend roared as he charged out of the room and down the hall.  “Last one to kill a Darkspawn has to kiss an Archdemon!  Ha ha!”  Sten and Shale followed him at a more sedate pace with one last look back to you lying on the bed.

Your lover turned to his regent once they had left.  “Eamon, can I ask you to look after things for a few more days?”  The arl graciously nodded and with a smile he simply turned and left, closing the door behind him.  Quite a perceptive man that Arl Eamon.  Alistair chose well in naming him regent.

Soon it was just you, myself and Alistair left in the room.  “What job would you have of me your highness?” I asked jovially as I sketched a quick bow before him.

But Alistair…well…he was not in a jovial mood.  Ah!  I tell you my dear if looks could kill we would have been able to send Alistair against the Archdemon and save ourselves a lot of trouble.

“I don’t like you much Zevran.  I never have and I never will,” he slashed a hand through the air to emphasis his point.  “And I don’t much trust you either.  But…” his voice trailed off as once again his gaze was drawn to you.  After a moment he sighed and turned back to me.

“But you are the only one I can trust to keep her safe when I am gone.  You know we’ve stepped on a lot of toes to get here, and I’m sure there’s more than a few who would take advantage of the chaos of the next few days to eliminate what they consider to be a problem to whatever plans they are concocting.  So I want you to stay here and make sure nothing happens to her whenever I am called away.”

I must admit I was rather taken aback by this declaration.  I for one would never have imagined that he would in essence put your very life in my hands!  And willingly so!  I would have defended you to the death either way, but it was rather humbling to hear him admit both his dislike and his need for me in the same breath.

Now what could I say to that you ask me?  And I would reply with ‘nothing’.  There was nothing to be said after that, for we both knew what was at stake should anything happen to you.  So we said nothing to each other.  Instead he took up the washcloth and water that was left and began to gently wash you.

And I, I too took my leave of you.  I left you to your lover and your hound as I stalked the halls of the fortress, your silent protector while you slept.


	6. The King and the Assassin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lurianna and Zevran have a moment before Alistair confronts his rival.

Silence reined on the top of Fort Drakon as Zevran’s voice faded away.  I stared across the empty expanse of warm, bloodstained stone as the images of the past faded from my mind’s eye.  The sun hung lower in the sky than when he first started his tale, closer to the dusk of evening than the glare of midday.

I cleared my throat, breaking the silence.  I could feel a slight tremor in my limbs from standing still for so long in one place.  Beads of sweat rolled down my back from the fading heat of the day, the roiling breeze refreshing against my flushed face.

“Anything else?” I whispered through a voice thick with thirst.

“Nothing much else to tell my dear,” he said softly.  “At first, you slept.  And then when you didn’t wake, we worried.  Wynne was the only one who came up with a possible reason as to why you did not wake when your body was so healed.  Something about that light caused damage to your spirit and that’s why you didn’t wake.  So we waited, and we watched, and we helped Denerrim to take its first steps on a new life.  We knew that was what you would want us to do, and we did not feel it was right for you to die for this, for all of us, and not try to help rebuild the city where you made your last stand.”

I nodded at his words and turned to him.  “For what it’s worth, thank you.  For…you know.  Everything.”  I smiled softly at him.

Zevran chuckled at my words.  “Ah my dear Lurianna, it would have been rather boorish of us to leave you so, no?”

“Either way, I thank you,” I sighed and started to move my quivering limbs in the direction of the stairwell.  “I think it’s best if we go now.  I really don’t feel like deflecting the search party Alistair is likely to send for me if I’m gone too long.”

Zevran snorted in agreement and fell into step beside me.  But halfway across the circular expanse of the rooftop the exertion of the day caught up to me.  I cried out as I felt my legs give way beneath me and I would have fallen if not for Zevran’s quick reflexes as he caught me in his arms.

“I think we had best rest for a moment, no?” his breathe tickled my ear as his warm, wry voice washed over me.  I laughed weakly.

“Yes I think so,” I agreed as Zevran gently lowered me to the stone.  Settling himself behind me so I could lean back against him, we sat quietly for a few moments watching the sun sink lower in the sky, his arms wrapped loosely around me.

“I prayed for you.  For the first time in my life I prayed for someone else’s well-being.”

I stiffened in surprise at such a sudden declaration and shifted to the side.  I was more lying than leaning on him so I could see his face.  Zevran wouldn’t meet my eyes at first.  But then he looked at me with such pain and longing that my heart caught in my throat.

Zevran had always flirted with me pushing at any boundaries that I had set, hoping I would give in to him despite my relationship with Alistair.  I had always assumed this was just his way.  He pushed just as much with our other female companions as he did me and more than once I caught him trying his charms on the odd male.  But now I saw the true depth of his feelings and it scared me and made me feel no small amount of shame that I had been blind for so long.

He didn’t need to say anything. I could see it all in his eyes as his lips descended and touched mine, his tongue flicking gently across them, questioning.  His hand swept swiftly up my side, sliding under my tunic until he cupped my breast.  The touch sent a shock through me, followed by a deep, lingering heat as if a flame had been suddenly lit.  I gasped at the sensations, drawing his tongue deeper into my mouth as I arched my back.

We tasted and explored each other.  Or rather Zevran explored me.  I was too shocked and stunned by my body’s reaction to do anything in protest.

The small corner of my mind that was still sane noted that his lips were softer than Alistair’s, and that he was a hell of a kisser.  His tongued danced around mine as his fingers gently rolled and pinched my taught nipple, sending another bolt of heat through me.  I don’t know how long we stayed like that, but I eventually felt him pull a hair’s breathe away from me.

“Come with me Lurianna,” he whispered breathlessly against my lips.  He was so close I could still feel their heat.  “This life, it is not for you.  You were born into it but I have seen your eyes light up at the prospect of battle and I know that you are meant for so much more.  Come with me and we will travel the world together, have marvelous adventures and I will make love to you every night under the stars.”

It was hard to hear him through the pounding of blood in the ears.  My body was on fire and my every though was to be laid bare upon the stone and feel the hot thick length of male surging inside me.  But not just any male.  As mad as I was with lust and desire, I could only think of Alistair.  I reached up and trailed shaking fingers down his cheek.

“Zevran.  You have such an unselfish heart, with room for so many women, so many loves.”  I splayed my hand across his chest and gently pushed him away.  “But my heart is selfish and I only have room for one.”

I felt Zevran still and stiffen around me.  We looked at each other for a long moment before he frowned as he slowly slid his hand from under my tunic and pulled further away.  “I understand,” he gritted out, his voice hard with emotion.

“Come now let me help you up,” he said with a brittle smile.  Gently disentangling himself from me he took my hands on helped me rise to my feet.  Turning from me he started again for the stairs, but I caught his arm and pulled him back.

We stood there for what seemed an eternity, frozen in tableau on the roof of that ancient fortress, staring at each other.  I swallowed past the lump in my throat.

“Do not doubt yourself Zevran.”  He stared unblinkingly at me.  “It has nothing to do with who or what you are.  Alistair and I were already on our path when you crossed mine.  If I had of met you first…” I shook my head.  “Zevran, you are one of my oldest companions and my dearest friend.  I do love you, but not the way you need me to.”

I wasn’t sure if I should have been saying any of this to him, but I could not simply leave things as they were.  I had to speak my piece.  I watched his face anxiously for anything that would tell me what he was thinking or feeling, but his mask was firmly in place.  I think he was wrestling with himself over choices made and paths not taken, because after a few moments his eyes softened and he smiled a warm, genuine smile.

“Ah, but what man could not be content with that?” he asked metaphorically as he stepped forward to embrace me.  I hugged him back hard, thankful I had not lost him before he pulled away from me and held me at arm’s length.

“You are without a doubt the most amazing woman I have ever met Lurianna.  Any man would be lucky to have you by your side, I had to try.  But you made me no promises, and I should not have forced my expectations upon you.”  He bowed.  “Forgive me.”

I grinned at my old friend.  “There is nothing to forgive,” I said simply.

With a chuckle and a flourish Zevran took my arm.  Leaning on each other once again like we had done so many times before, we finally made out way to the stairs and started down.  The journey down was hard for me.  The drama between us and the fear of losing a companion was sufficient to push all conscious thought of the fire raging inside me out of my mind, but with nothing but silence and the cool darkness it returned in full.

My mind raced as my body raged.  Why was it doing this?  I had never experienced this before.  Was it survivor’s syndrome?  It was often said that surviving when so many others did not often raised one’s ardor and prompted them to mate as a kind of reaffirmation or celebration of life.  Alistair and I had not lain together for some months now.  Perhaps that was it?  I had been so long without him that a mere touch from another male would ignite me?

Those were questions I would have to think on another day, for my room drew close and my breathing ragged.  I daresay Zevran saw something amiss, but was showing one of his rare instances of wisdom and held his tongue.  I opened the heavy old oak door into my room and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Alistair seated on a sofa in front of the fireplace.

The rooms we had taken over once belonged to the commander of the fort, and while luxurious in comparison to the other rooms, they were still small but immensely more comfortable.  The first room consisted of a simple sofa and fireplace, with a desk for work against the wall across from us, and a liquor cabinet for entertaining to the right.  The left side opened up into the second room where a plush four poster bed waited to greet its nightly occupants along with a wardrobe and small dresser.

“Sweet Andraste!” Alistair leapt to his feet when he saw me and I could only imagine what a sight I made.  Short breathed, leaning heavily on my cane, and my face flushed red from the sun and lust.  “Are you alright Lurianna?”  Not waiting for an answer he looked beyond me to Zevran, his eyes blazing.  “Go fetch Wynne,” he snapped.

“No!” I barked.  Alistair drew himself up short and blinked at me in surprise.  “We don’t need to call Wynne every time I need to take a blasted piss!” I almost shouted at him.  “I spent the afternoon in the sun and am tired is all.”

I turned to Zevran who was still standing behind me and eyeing the both of us warily.  “Thank you again Zevran, but I think I’ll be turning in now.”  He nodded slowly at me and bowed low.

“Then I wish you both pleasant dreams,” he bade us before heading further down the hall to his own room.  I locked the door behind him and turned to the bedroom, letting my cane clatter to the floor as I began peeling off my clothes.  My body felt too warm in them.

I heard Alistair following.  “Lurianna?  Are you alright?” he called after me, voice full of concern.  I ignored him.  He would know my intentions soon enough.  By the time I reached the bed I was naked.  I sensed him behind me and wondered what he saw.  My body was paler and more scarred since we were last together, and I had still not regained all the muscle mass I had lost during my convalescence.  I was a hero, but I was also a woman and prone to the same insecurities as those of my gender.  But I refused to let it stop me.

“Lurianna,” his voice was in my ear, deeper and thicker than normal.  I turned to him and saw the desire banked by concern in his eyes as his gaze traveled over me from head to toe.  We were close, so close, barely a step apart from each other.  I was amazed he could not feel the heat radiating off me.  I closed the distance between us and wrapped my arms around his neck as I kissed him.  My bare breasts rubbed against the coarseness of his tunic, the friction teasing my sensitive nipples into tight, aching points.

I parted my lips and flicked my tongue against his, gently biting his lip.  Alistair encircled me in his arms, embracing me briefly before gently grasping my hips and pulling back out of my reach.  “Are you sure?” he whispered huskily.  I speared my fingers through his hair and kissed him with as much desire and passion as I could, letting my body answer for me.  Alistair tried to be gentle at first, to go slow, but then his control snapped and I felt a wave of primal satisfaction as I heard him growl deep in his throat as he grabbed me by the waist and threw me onto the bed.

Our coupling was wild and fierce at first, we had been too long without each other and it was what my body demanded.  I nipped and scratched at him through the fabric of his tunic, hard enough to leave marks but not to draw blood.  Alistair hissed in that heady mix of pain laced pleasure as he fumbled at the front of his breeches, freeing himself.  Roughly pushing my legs apart he fell between them, his manhood resting at my entrance.  He stilled his body long enough to look at me one last time, that question again on his lips.

I smiled up at him and arched my back, my centre already so wet he slipped easily inside.  With a swift intake of breathe Alistair pulled all the way out and thrust deep into me.  I arched my back again and cried out as he hit the entrance to my womb and I shuddered around him, stars exploding in my vision as I climaxed.  After a few more thrusts Alistair stiffened and moaned my name as he spent himself and collapsed on top of me.

We made love well into the night.  The rest of our time together was the kind of gentle lovemaking you hear tell in ballads and epic romantic poems.  We took care to relearn every inch of each other’s bodies, the room filled with our soft sighs and moans.  I guessed it was about midnight when I found myself cradled in Alistair’s arms as we lay together, naked, sated and content.  He kissed the top of my head and I looked into his blue, blue eyes with that familiar mischievous twinkle in them.  “Not that I’m complaining or anything mind you,” he drawled “but what brought that on?”

I chuckled low in my throat as my heart stilled in my chest.  I did not know what caused it, but I knew what triggered it and I was loath to spoil our first night together with the truth.  “I missed you,” I answered simply instead. Alistair kissed me again and smiled.

“I know you too well Lurianna,” he said to me.  “You rarely do anything without reason, even when we make love.  And I could tell you weren’t yourself as soon as you stepped through the door this afternoon.  Please, tell me what was wrong.”

I sighed and reluctantly pulled out of his arms, sitting up in the bed and wrapping a sheet around myself.  I rubbed at my tired, gritty eyes as I tried best to phrase what I needed to say in the best manner to keep him from going on a killing spree.  “Alistair,” I finally asked.  “What do you know about female Grey Wardens?  How does the taint affect them?”

Alistair frowned at my question and propped himself up on one elbow.  “Not much I’m afraid,” he admitted. “There weren’t many women in the Grey Wardens to begin with, and you know Duncan wasn’t able to tell me everything we needed to know about the order before the battle.”  He looked at me with trepidation and concern.  “Why do you ask?”

I took a deep breath and explained to Alistair everything that had happened between me and Zevran since I had woken up.  The brief kiss as I was first coming to, the glances and touches that I only now registered as I looked back on the past week, and what happened on the top of the tower just a few short hours ago.  Alistair was understandably incised by everything that had happened and he leapt naked out of the bed and began pacing around the room.

“That bastard!”  He cried.  “I knew I should never have trusted him!  But I never thought he would actually try to force himself on you!”  I remained silent while Alistair raged.  Under normal circumstances I would have enjoyed the view, but I didn’t think that would have gone over very well.  “He didn’t force himself on me Alistair,” I sighed.  He snorted in disbelief.  “Could have fooled me.  And why are you protecting him?  You’re his friend, a Grey Warden, my _fiancée_ , and you’re going to sit there defending him?”  He shook his head incredulous.

“Well you might be able to let this go, but I’m not,” he declared as he turned to leave the room.  I could only assume he was going to confront Zevran, and I didn’t know what I feared more.  One of them losing their lives to each other, or losing one of them from my life.

“Alistair don’t!” I called after him and scrambled out of bed to follow him.  But I had wrapped the sheet too well around myself and my foot got caught in a fold of fabric and I went sprawling face first into the cold stone floor.  My cry of shock brought Alistair back to me thankfully, and he rushed to my side when he saw me sprawled naked on the ground.  “Lurianna-” I held up my hand to stop him and pulled myself back onto the bed.

“You’re not going to do anything to him,” I said softly, not looking at Alistair.  Out of the corner of my eye I saw him straighten in indignation.  “And why not?” he bit out.  I finally raised my eyes and looked at him.  “I love you Alistair.  But I won’t lose my friend because of you.”

I could see the muscles in his jaw tense at those words.  “Oh right, my apologies.  It’s in the nature of friends to force themselves on each other when the other is weak, unable to fight back and in love with someone else.”  Sarcasm dripped from every word and if his voice were any colder I would have been frozen on the spot.  “Was it really me you were with just now, or were you thinking of him?” he sneered at me.

I don’t remember getting up.  I don’t remember closing the distance between us.  But I do remember the sharp crack my hand made as it met his face, and the red imprint it left behind on his cheek.  It took a moment for Alistair to register what had happened, and I used that to my advantage.

“If it was Zevran I wanted, I would have had him,” now my voice was colder than the grave.  “We were alone up there for hours.  I could have fucked him ten times over and you would have never known.  But as soon as I knew what was going on, I stopped him.  I walked away from him.  And I came back. To. You.” I poked his chest to emphasis my words.

“And yes, Zevran is my friend.  He will always be my friend, perhaps my closest one aside from you.  Do you want to know why Alistair?” He glared at me mutinously but held his silence.  I felt my shoulders sag with weariness as I sat back down on the bed. “Because he never judged me,” I whispered.  “Never once did Zevran judge.  He accepted me wholly and completely.  Do you have any idea how important that was?”  Alistair had a look of curiosity and disbelief on his face.  I don’t think that had ever occurred to him.  But then he shook his head in denial.  “We all accepted you-”

“No,” I interrupted.  “You followed me and trusted me, but none of you ever fully accepted me for the longest time.”  I began ticking examples off on my fingers.  “You yourself questioned me several times on my decisions.  Leliana often called me out on being too hard, Oghren for being too soft, Sten and Shale for reasons I _still_ don’t get to this day, Morrigan would call me a fool for helping whoever we could, and let’s not forget the wonderful conversation Wynne and I had concerning my ‘moral ambiguity’.”

“I was orphaned, conscripted, hunted, and expected to lead a rag tag group of people to stop a war, a blasted _Blight_ , that most didn’t believe was coming.  And if the Maker was good, hopefully I would stop it before too many had died.” My eyes pleaded for understanding.  “Do you have any idea how comforting, how refreshing it was to have one person like that?  One person, who never questioned, challenged or judged me?”  Alistair remained silent, watching me.  I couldn’t read his face, and something inside me told me I had failed in making him understand.

“I’m not asking you to like him, or to get along with him.  Just…don’t drive him away,” I finished lamely.  I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at my hands clasped on my lap.  I now noticed how cold it was in the room and my skin broke out in goose bumps, making me shiver.  But then something warm was draped over my shoulders and the bed beside me dipped under a new weight.  Alistair wrapped his arm around me and rested his head against mine.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly.  “I never thought of that.  We did put a lot on you, but it’s only because we knew you were the strongest of all of us.”  I felt grateful tears welling up in my eyes at those words as his sigh brushed across my face.  “I don’t think I’ll ever trust him again, but I won’t do anything out of respect for the service he has done you in the past.” I nodded as a few silent tears rolled down my face, one of the few times I had cried since the death of my family.  I felt Alistair brush a kiss against my temple before he stood up.  I looked up the length of his firm, warm body and my heart swelled with love and gratitude that we were able to find each other in the midst of a war torn land.

Alistair laid his hands on my shoulders and smiled at me.  “Let’s go to bed,” he whispered.  And I was only too happy to oblige.

***

In the quiet hours before dawn, Alistair opened the door to their shared room and looked up and down the hallway, ensuring it was empty.  Aside from a quiet huff at his feet announcing Kiché’s presence, there was not a soul in sight.  No matter where Kiché roamed during the day as Lurianna built up her strength, each dawn would find him curled up in front of their room, waiting for his mistress to wake.

Alistair looked down into Kiché’s soulful brown eyes and opened the door a little wider, beckoning the hound inside.  “Don’t wake her,” Alistair whispered as the Mabari hound slipped silently past him.  Another huff, the briefest of disturbances on the air served well enough to let Alistair know that he had been heard and understood.

After their little spat, Alistair and Lurianna had crawled into bed, exhausted.  And while she quickly slipped into a deep sleep, something so rare before but so common now since her body still had some healing to do, rest was more elusive for him.  He lay awake in the dark, listening to the soft sounds of her breathing and replaying their conversation over and over again in his mind before coming to a decision.  Taking only enough time to throw on his breeches from earlier he padded on bare feet over the cold stone, slipping out of the room where Lurianna still lay sleeping in their bed, and gently closed the door behind him before making his quiet way down the hall.

At the end of the hall he stopped before another thick, oaken wood door, no different than any other.  Raising his hand, he rapped swiftly on the wood and waited, the sound barely registered in the quiet night, but he was sure that the room’s occupant heard him.

Soon enough his assurances proved true as the door opened and Zevran appeared on the other side of it.  His normally well kept hair was mussed and tangled from sleep, and like Alistair he wore only a pair of breeches, but that was the only indication he had been resting as his eyes were bright and alert and he held one of his many daggers in his hand.

“Ah Alistair!” Zevran exclaimed with a smile that quickly vanished as his eyes took in the empty corridor.  “Is everything alright with our other companions?” he asked warily.

“Can I have a word with you Zevran?” Alistair asked, ignoring his question.  After a pause Zevran nodded and stepped aside to let Alistair in.  Zevran’s room was smaller than the one Lurianna and Alistair shared, instead it was almost an exact replica of the room Lurianna woke in after the battle.  A simple bed and chest of drawers, with a desk, chair and lamp with room enough to move around filled out the room, with a small slit of a window above the headboard allowing in light and air.

Alistair took the room in at a glance and turned to Zevran who had closed the door partially over and eyed the young Templar-turned-Grey-Warden-turned-King warily.  The blonde human had a good foot of height on Zevran and at least half a hundred pounds on him, and it wouldn’t take much for a lucky strike to lay the assassin low for a few moments despite his advantages of speed and agility.

Zevran was under no delusions as to why Alistair was here rather than with Lurianna.  She told him everything that had happened today, and now he had come to settle accounts between them.  Zevran was not surprised that it had come to this, the only thing was he did not know what Alistair intended.  Alistair was mild mannered enough not to want to provoke violence, but in Zevran’s experience logic and long standing personality did not often play a role in the reactions of a threatened or jilted lover.  Alistair’s words soon enough confirmed his suspicions.

“Lurianna told me everything,” Alistair began without preamble, looking Zevran right in the eyes.  Zevran’s hand tightened on the dagger he still held, and he noticed Alistair’s eyes flicker, catching the motion.  “I’m not here for vengeance,” he said, holding up his hands in peace.  “But I cannot let what happened pass by without saying something first.”

Zevran and Alistair stared at each other for a few moments passed before Zevran finally arched a brow at the other and gestured with his free hand for Alistair to continue.

Alistair ignored the signal, taking a few additional moments to collect his thoughts.  He had everything he wanted to say planned out before he left his room, now he wanted to make sure he said it right.

“You shouldn’t have laid your hands upon her like that,” he started.  “I think it was the ultimate betrayal of trust, both hers and mine.” Alistair paused and raked his hand through his short cropped blonde hair, taking a deep breath and expelling it in a rush.  “But I understand you had to try.  I can only imagine how hard it would be to see the woman you love in the arms of someone else.  I’m not sure I wouldn’t have done the something similar if I were in your shoes.  But she has made her choice, and I can only hope you understand and honor it.”

Zevran nodded solemnly to Alistair. “I will, and I can.  You make her happy, and who am I to deny her that?” he said with a shrug.  Then he looked at Alistair with a dark gleam in his eyes and a slightly sinister smirk.  “But Alistair, be sure you keep her happy hmmm?  I will not push myself on her again, but that doesn’t mean I won’t be waiting for another chance.”

“I would die to make her happy,” Alistair growled at the elf, his hands unconsciously clenching into fists at the implied threats.

“Then we have an accord.”  Zevran inclined his head.  “You would die to make her happy, and I would kill.  Two sides of the same coin, no?  So long as she is happy, then so too, are we yes?”

“Yes,” Alistair gritted out.  Smirking at the aggravated king, Zevran opened the door wide, a clear invitation for Alistair to leave which the frustrated blonde took, casting one last glare at the elf before walking back down the corridor to his own room, the soft thud of a closing door echoing behind him.


	7. The Hero of Fereldan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alistair and Lurianna are crowned King and Queen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of this is scenes and dialogue taken from the game.

“What in the blessed name of the Maker is _that_?” I asked, staring at the frothy cream confection in front of me with a mix of fear and abject horror.  Alissa, my lady in waiting, curtsied to me with a look of confusion on her face.  The only word you could think of when you looked at her was ‘tiny’.  Barely topping five feet in height she had a pretty, slender face, long elegant hands, and strawberry blonde hair pulled up into a demure knot at the base of her neck that framed her sky blue eyes.

“It’s your gown for the coronation ceremony my lady,” she explained hesitantly.  “Do you not approve?” Her words were tinged with a bit of fear as she saw me shaking my head violently, my hands drawing the lapels of my robe closer together.

Three weeks had passed since I awoke from my slumber and life was finally beginning to move forward.  The injured were healed, our allies had returned to their homes, the rubble was cleared from the streets, rebuilding was well underway, and I had made as full a recovery as one could after sustaining such wounds.  I was finally able to walk freely around the city, and Arl Eamon had declared it time to coronate Alistair and officially make him king.

As a result my companions and I had finally been transferred to the palace a few days ago in preparation for the ceremony.  Alistair and I had been given separate rooms due to formalities, but it did not stop him from visiting me each night.  The coronation ceremony was to start in a few hours, and I was trying to get myself ready to address my former peers and be presented to them as their future queen.

Trying being the operative word.  Instead of my armor I was presented with a lace and fabric concoction that looked more at home on a fancy pastry than a person and I shook my head again, surprised that it had managed to stay on my shoulders.

“No,” I said as I slowly backed away from the so-called dress.  “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just that I was planning on wearing my armor today. It has been repaired yes?”  I finally stopped warily eyeing the monstrosity before me long enough to look at Alissa.

I was told that my armor was mangled during my battle with the Archdemon, but I had begged Alistair to try and fix it.  That armor had saved my life more than once and I was loath to part with it.  So Alistair had it sent off to Soldiers Peak and delivered into the care of Mikhael Dryden , the same smith who had made my beloved long sword Starfang out of star metal that I had found in my travels.

And as one would expect from a man who could make magical arms and armor from metal that falls from the sky, Mikhael was able to repair my armor and return it to its former glory.  Or so I was told as I hadn’t laid eyes upon it yet.

Alissa nodded at me and bobbed a quick curtsey.  “I will have it brought up right away my lady,” she said softly before slipping out of the room.

When she was gone I raked my hands through my disheveled hair and blew out my breath in a rush as I looked around my room.  So much had happened in the span of one short year and now it was coming full circle.  I had gone from luxury to poverty and now to opulence, my room was twice the size as the one Alistair and I shared briefly in For Drakon although many features were still the same.  Divided into three chambers, the main room was for entertaining and working with plush sofas and elegant wooden furniture, the bedroom boasted a thick featherbed with soft, lush covers and multiple wardrobes, and there was even a separate bathing area off to the side.  I sighed and sat down on the nearest sofa, sinking into the material with relish as I eyed the dress like it was going to bite me and reflected upon all that had brought me here.

There were many things I would never forget about my life.  Wonderful memories forged in love and friendship of my time on the road with my companions.  Playing fetch with Kiché as we wandered the road.  Talking with Wynne and discussing things such as the meaning of life, the strength of duty, and the weakness of love.  I remembered drinking contests with Oghren, bantering with Leliana and Zevran, even arguing with Shale, Sten and Morrigan.  All would serve to warm me when my life grew cold and dark.

But there were things I wished I could forget.  Things that gave me nightmares now and I was sure for years to come.  The faces of the men and women who died because of or in spite of me, the multitudes of darkspawn corpses, the abominations I killed, demons I survived, dragons we took down, and of course my battle with Urthemial the Archdemon, once revered as the Tevinter god of beauty.  I had lived such a short time, but seen and done and learned so much.

And despite everything I had survived, I feared.  No one knew why I had slept so long or so deeply after my battle.  Wynne hypothesized with me one day that the Archdemon’s soul passing through mine damaged it in some way, and since a wounded soul took longer to heal than flesh and bone, my body slept to aid the process before the damage killed me.

I had my own theory of course.  I remembered my time in Oblivion, that place between the worlds that those unfaithful to the Maker are doomed to wander for eternity.  I was not unfaithful, but I was stopped there by my parents and I was given the choice to pass on to the Maker or come back.  I came back because I had too much left unfinished, but facing your own death marks a person.

I did not fear death, for unlike most I knew what awaited me.  What I feared now was dying too soon, and the small whisper of doubt that I came away from the battle with my soul intact.  I didn’t react to extreme heat or cold anymore like most people would.  I heard whispers in the dark of night when I was alone in my room.  And every so often I saw shadows out of the corners of my eyes, shadows that disappeared whenever I tried to spy them.

I was a very changed person from the girl who had fled into the blood filled night so long ago.  Only time would tell if I had changed for the better.

A knock at the door interrupted my reverie and drew me back to the present.

“Come in,” I called eagerly as I scrambled to my feet. If the Maker was kind it would be Alissa with my armor.  The door swung open and while I was disappointed it was not my longed-for armor, I was nonetheless pleased to see my visitor.

“Leliana!” I exclaimed joyfully as I embraced my dear friend.  Leliana returned my hug and stepped back to take me in.  Well dressed as always in a gown of soft earth tones that beautifully complemented her slender frame, fair skin and light red hair, Leliana had that soft kind of beauty that drew men in like moths to a flame.  Her makeup was done perfectly, and she glided across the floor like any well bred noble lady.

Few knew her true calling as an Orlesian spy.  Her slender hands could handle a harp, a bow, and pick a lock with equal ease and skill enough to rival an elf.  Her talents had come in handy on our journey together and I had to wonder what was left for her now that the Archdemon and her former teacher Marjolen were dead.

Leliana had come to Fereldan to become a sister of the Chantry and to escape punishment in Orlais for a crime she did not commit, a crime that her mentor Marjolen had framed her for.  She remained sequestered for a long time before leaving the Chantry to search me out, convinced the Maker was calling her to join my side, an act that made Marjolen suspect that Leliana was finally coming for her and she decided to strike first.

I am not one to take kindly to anyone coming for my friends with any form of ill intent.  Leliana was the first I had defended, but she would not be the last.  And all the aggressors went the way of Marjolen: into a cold grave at the end of my sword.

“What in the name of the Maker are you doing here?  Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready as well?” I asked her.  Leliana smiled at me as she did a small pirouette in her gown.

“But I am ready my dear,” she giggled at me.  “I know it has been a while since you wore a gown so I thought I would come and help you, and it seems I have arrived just in time.”  Leliana grinned at my hair, still tangled from sleep.  With a laugh she ushered me into the bedroom and onto the seat in front of the vanity, picking up a brush and applying it to my hair with a vengeance.

I sighed and sat stoically in front of the mirror as Leliana brushed and primped my hair, prattling away in excitement the whole time.

“Umm, Leliana,” I interrupted at one point.  Leliana paused in piling my hair on top of my head in some sort of complicated Orleasian knot.  Catching my eye in the mirror, she looked innocently back at me through a mouthful of hair pins.  How she was able to articulate through them I don’t think I’ll ever know.

“You do know I’m just going to be wearing my armor?” I asked.

“What about that beautiful dress?” she mumbled around the pins.  Leliana had a thing about dresses.  And shoes.  And hats.  And just about anything that a woman could wear or do to herself to look pretty.  It was refreshing having someone a little more frivolous around on the road to lighten the mood and take your mind off things.  “That color would look gorgeous on you.”

I narrowed my bright green eyes at her reflection in the mirror, meeting her soft brown ones suspiciously.  “Leliana…” I drawled, “did you have something to do with that dress?”

Leliana continued to smile innocently at me through the pins clenched tightly between her lips.  I sighed and shook my head slightly, all the movement I was allowed with my hair firmly in her grasp.  “I can’t wear it Leliana, not today.”

Leliana frowned and took the pins out of her mouth.  “Why ever not?” she asked.  “That color will go beautifully with your skin, and you’re going to be introduced as the next queen of Fereldan!  Don’t you want to look your best?”

I could tell she was hurt but didn’t want to say anything.  No doubt she had gone shopping as soon as she could and picked something out just for me.  I smiled at my dear friend and tried to take the sting out of my words.  “I do Leliana,” I assured her, “But they know me as a warrior, and afterwards I’m going to have to parade around the city.  I’d rather do it in my armor than a dress.  It’ll stand up to the abuse better, and at least this way I’ll have something better to wear at the feast tonight.”

That seemed to mollify her as she put the pins down on the surface of the vanity and resumed brushing my hair, this time putting it up in the simple braid I always favored.  No sooner had she finished then there was a knock at the door and Alissa rushed in.

“My lady?” she called out hurriedly as two pages followed behind her, bits and pieces of armor in their hands.

“Here Alissa,” I called as Leliana and I made our way out into the main sitting room.  The two young men blushed at seeing the great Hero of Fereldan in nothing but a thin robe.  I nodded to them.  “Leave the armor on the sofa please,” I bade them.  The deposited the pile of steel and leather on the cushions and swiftly departed, but not soon enough if the look on Alissa’s face was any indication.  The poor girl looked absolutely terrified.

“My lady, we must hurry.  The ceremony is about to start!” Alissa exclaimed as she stared at the jumble of my Juggernaut Plate armor.

“Do you know anything about putting on armor?” I asked her as I approached the sofa, undoing the tie of my robe.  She shook her head no.  Nodding to Leliana, I dropped my robe.  I was wearing nothing but my small clothes underneath and was unconcerned.  Modesty was something you didn’t cling to so tightly in a war.  I picked up a piece of plate mail and held it out to her as I caught Leliana’s eye.

“You’re about to learn,” I said grimly.

***

Thankfully, Alissa proved to be a quickly study with nimble fingers, and between the three of us I was dressed and rushing out the door in record time.  Leliana and I ran through the hallways of the palace as I strapped on my swords Brightblood and Starfang and managed to slip into the throne room before the ceremony started.

We arrived just in time.  Like all buildings in Fereldan, the palace of Denerrim was built of wood and stone, and the throne room was no exceptions.  Long and narrow due to the wooden viewing balconies along each side, with large double doors at one end and a raised dais at the other with steps leading up.  Discreet doors flanked the dais at the foot of the stone steps where stewards and officials would slip in and out of during important meetings and audiences. Drapes and tapestries were hung around the dais and at strategic places along the walls, more of consent to foreign aesthetics than any local sensibilities, and a long narrow floor runner ran the length of the room from door to wall.

The Revered Mother of the Denerrim Chantry waited at the top of the dais to give the coronation blessing along with Arl Eamon and a handful of knights.  There was a soft buzzing in the room as the gathered peers of the realm, lords and ladies all, talked amongst themselves as they waited for the ceremony to start.  It was jewels and silks as far as the eye could see, aside from the splashes of leather and steel at the foot of the dais that marked the location of the rest of my companions as well as the guards along the walls and lined up the steps of the dais.

Slipping in through one of the side doors, Leliana and I made our way swiftly to the cluster of our companions at the base of the dais.  My heart stopped then soared as I caught a glimpse of my brother Fergus in the crowd near us.  My parents were right.  A part of me feared that they were wrong, or that my whole time in Oblivion was a fever dream, but seeing Fergus alive and well before me only reaffirmed that everything that had happened during my convalescence was real.  Leliana and I look our places with the others just in time.  As soon as Fergus and I exchanged smiles of greeting with one another, the doors at the far end were thrown open and Alistair marched down the center of the room, eyes fixed on the dais.

The room had fallen silent when the doors opened, and now the only sounds to be heard was the thump of Alistair’s boots on the carpeted stone, and the creak of his armor as he moved.  He looked resplendent and powerful in his golden armor, with his sword and shield slung across his back.  Alistair strode down the hall with firm purpose and without hesitation he climbed the steps and knelt at the feet of the Revered Mother, head bowed as she began the blessing confirming Alistair as the new King of Fereldan.

I admit I paid little heed to her words.  My eyes were only for my betrothed, and my mind was only on the future: mine and that of Fereldan’s.  I saw heads bow, lips move, then I saw Alistair stand and the Revered Mother bow to him before he turned to face the assembled crowd who now broke their silence and greeted their new king with cheers and applause.  Alistair’s eyes roamed across the assembly for a moment, letting the noise die down before he addressed his new subjects.

“My friends,” he began, “We are gathered to celebrate those responsible for our victory.  And of those who stood against the Darkspawn siege of Denerrim, there is one in particular who deserves commendation.” Alistair paused and spared me a quick smile.  “The one who lead the final charge against the Archdemon remains with us still, an inspiration to all she saved that day.”  That was my cue.  I stepped away from the circle of my companions and ascended the steps, joining him on the dais.  His voice was strong and proud as I stood next to him and his voice carried over the assembly.

“Ladies and gentlemen, may I formally present my betrothed, who will soon be your queen.”

Together we turned to face our assembled friends, family, companions, and peers.  The response was overwhelming.  I saw Leliana and Fergus pumping their fists in the air at the news, Wynne smiled gently at the pair of us as she clapped, Sten stood stoically as usual, Oghren somehow had a mug of mead in hand that he saluted us with, Zevran whooped with joy and somewhere I heard Kiché barking.

Of my golem friend Shale there was no sign, and I could not blame her.  She had spent enough years being stared at by humans when the son of her master ordered her immobilized and set her about being a living town ornament.  Being here at the coronation ceremony would only lead to more stares, whispers, and questions none of us were quite willing to answer just yet.  We had discovered on our travels that the ancient dwarven golems were powered by the souls of the living, and Shale was once a woman of the dwarven clan Caddash who volunteered to be turned into a golem.  No one was quite comfortable with that information going public just yet, so Shale had decided to stay within Wynne’s room during the ceremony.

Once the crowd had settled down once more, Alistair turned to face me with that mischievous smile I fell in love with.  “My friend,” he said, “It is hard to imagine how you could have aided Fereldan more.  I think it only appropriate that I return the favor.  As a reward, and as an engagement gift, I offer you a boon of your choice.”

We had discussed before what would happen at the ceremony today, rehearsed his speech time and time again.  I knew he would offer me a gift, but until then I had no idea what I would ask for.  Many things were mine if I only said the words.  Land, a title, money, wealth, anything and everything I could ever want would be given to me at the snap of his fingers.

The only thing was I already had everything that I wanted that anyone could give me.  I had my life, my health, good, dear friends and a man who loved me.  I had saved my homeland, avenged my dead, and in a few minutes I would be reunited with my brother, the last of my living family.  There was nothing I wanted, but I was suddenly struck by something that we all needed.

All that had befallen Fereldan could be traced back to one man who let fear and hatred drive him to madness, who had forgotten the lessons of the past and the true reason for the existence of the Grey Wardens: to fight back the Darkspawn and defend those who could not defend themselves.  I knew then what boon I would ask of my new found king.

“The sacrifice of the Grey Wardens should not be forgotten,” I declared loudly, my voice echoing firmly across the room.

Alistair was surprised at my announcement but I could tell he was pleased.  “Now that’s a very good point,” he said softly enough for only me to hear.  Aloud he said “I think we can begin with a monument here in Denerrim dedicated to the Grey Wardens who have fallen.  Duncan, Riordan, all of them.  And its high times some scholars were collected to learn more about the Darkspawn.  We’ll face them again, with the dwarves as well as here.”  Alistair turns to face the crowd once more, his voice resonating across those assembled.

“Let it also be known that the arling of Amaranthine, once the land of Arl Howe, is now granted to the Grey Wardens.  There they can rebuild, following the example of those who came before them.”  Alistair turned again to me and I wondered idly if he was getting dizzy with all this back and forth, addressing me and the crowd.

“What are your plans?” he asked me, “I assume with the wedding you will be remaining within the city.” I shook my head.  As much as I wanted to remain with him, I knew the wedding was a few months off yet, and there were those who needed me more.

“The Darkspawn are still a threat.  The Grey Wardens need me,” I said.

“That they do,” Alistair nodded to me.  “I’m glad one of us is staying with them at least. But there’s a group of Fereldan citizens waiting outside to get a look at their hero.  I suggest you make at least a brief appearance before they storm the gates.” He laughed. “Just tell the guard at the door when you’re ready.”

And with that, it was over.  All the pomp and circumstance was done.  Alistair was king and in a few months I would be his queen.  All that remained was to say a final farewell to those who had fought beside me on this long journey.  We had all feasted together one final time last night, for we knew it would be the last we would all be together again for a very long time, if ever.  I knew many were leaving this very night for their homes and families, and that once I walked out those doors there were some I would never see again.  So I was determined to say a few final words to those who had come so far with me before we parted ways forever.

But I couldn’t make my rounds yet without saying a few words to Alistair.  Once he had told me of those waiting outside for me, he had taken himself off to the side of the dais, enjoying a few more moments of quiet and solitude before being a king in truth.  I approached him and he smiled at me.

“So, we made it.  I’m impressed aren’t you?” He asked.  But then the smile fell from his face and the light in his eyes faded a bit as his hand came up to brush my cheek.  “I was so scared I might lose you,” he whispered, “but… here you are and here I am.  Not bad right?”  His hand fell away as his voice grew more serious.  “I guess Morrigan was telling the truth after all about the ritual.  The rest of the grey wardens haven’t arrived yet from Orlais but they’ve already sent questions.”  Alistair looked at me, his eyes almost pleading.  “What should I tell them?” he asked.

I smiled to myself.  Alistair may be king, but he had yet to break his habit of following me.  I knew he would always consult me when he could before making his own decisions because he valued me and my opinion, but for now he was still looking for direction, still wanting to follow orders.

“Tell them they were wrong,” I said with a shrug of my shoulders.  Nothing much else we could tell them that wouldn’t get us lynched.

“Hmmm.  Yes, all you need is a malificar willing to have your demon baby,” Alistair drawled sarcastically.  “Who knew?” He smirked at me and shook his head.  “No I think I’ll be keeping that to myself.  I’ll just shrug and look stupid, I’m good at that.”  He looked at me curiously.  “Speaking of Morrigan do you know where she went?  I’m told she vanished right after the battle, no goodbyes or anything,” he said, and I could have sworn he sounded a little bit hurt by her abrupt departure.

I sighed, feeling the weight of my decision that night press down on my shoulders again.  “I don’t know.  I’m not sure I want to,” I admitted.

“I’m just concerned about what that ritual is going to cost eventually,” Alistair and I were silent for a moment before he gave his head a quick toss and smiled fondly at me.  “At any rate I can’t wait to be alone with you.  These formal affairs drive me insane,” he murmured as he stepped closer.

I chuckled deep in my throat at I wrapped my arms around his waist and kissed his cheek.  “Meet you upstairs later?” I whispered in his ear.

“Oh I’ll be waiting don’t you worry.” Alistair’s eyes were dark and filled with wondrous promise.  His arms tightened around my waist briefly before he stepped back out of my embrace and flashed me a grin.  “I’ll let you get to your adoring public,” he said.  “They want to see the hero of Fereldan and who am I to keep them waiting?”

I laughed as I turned from him and started down the dais.  My eyes searched the crowd, looking for one familiar face.  I found him to the left of stairs leading to the dais, leaning against one of the thick wooden support beams for the balcony above him. One of the few in the room wearing armor, his leather was dark with age, worn but well maintained.  He had been watching me with Alistair, waiting patiently for me but pushed off from the beam as I made my way swiftly towards him.  I threw my arms around my brother and hugged him tight, his arms going around me and returning the gesture in force.  We were both smiles and laughs as we broke apart and it was Fergus who found his voice first.

Fergus held me at arm’s length and looked me up and down.  “When I heard that my little sister was not only a grey warden but also leading Fereldan into battle, I was surprised, to put it mildly.”  He smiled sadly at me and gave my arms a gentle squeeze.  “Father…he would have been so proud of you,” he said softly.  “I know I am.  You’ve done good.”

“I knew I should have looked harder for you.”  My voice was thick with emotions at being reunited with Fergus after so long.

“I’m not sure you wouldn’t have just been wasting your time to be honest,” Fergus admitted with a shrug.  “I never made it to the battle at Ostagar.  We were still scouting in the wilds when we were attacked by a party of darkspawn.  Most of my men were killed,” his voice was grim as he related what happened to him.  “I awoke two weeks later in a Chasind hut, wounded and feverish.  By the time I was able to sneak out of the wilds you were already marching to Denerrim.  I tried to get word to Highever.  You can imagine what happened I suppose.”  I could hear the pain in his voice despite his attempts to hide it from me.  He didn’t want to add to my worries, but I knew he was still mourning the loss of his wife Oranna and son Orrin.

I wanted so bad to tell him how sorry I was for what had happened.  I knew there was nothing I could have done, but there was a small part of me that asked why, if I had so many, why couldn’t I have saved them?  “Howe paid for what he did,” I said instead, hoping to give him some measure of peace.  “I killed him myself.”

“Howe was a greedy treacherous bastard,” he snarled at me.  “I only wish I was there to help you kill him.  At least amaranthine belongs to the grey wardens.  There is some justice in that I think.”  Fergus took a deep breath to calm himself down and I saw the rage slowly leave his body as he brought himself under control.  “I need to get back to Highever,” he said at last.  “Try and see if I can clean up the mess Howe made of it.”  Fergus looked at me expectantly.  “I will see you soon I hope?”

I nodded to my brother.  “Of course you will,” I promised him.  I had planned to make Highever my first stop when I left the city.  It had been too long since I been home, and while there were many painful memories there, there were many good ones that I needed to revisit, and a brother who needed me to help put things right and mourn his family.

Fergus grinned at me.  “Good,” he declared.  “Highever won’t be the same without,” he faltered briefly, “everyone around.  Take care of yourself will you?  Else I’ll find you and nag you like mother did until you’re ready to tear out your hair,” he threatened with a sad smile.

I looked fondly at my brother as I gave him one more hug before moving on.  Looking around I caught the eye of Arl Eamon, the man who had been so integral in helping us to get here.  Eamon lent his knights to our cause, called the assembly to call Loghain’s right to rule into question, and backed Alistair’s claim to the throne.  I don’t know where we would be without his help.  I crossed the room to where the Arl stood with his brother Teigan.  Eamon smiled to me as I drew closer.

“It is over,” he said as I drew up beside him.  Dressed from head to toe in Redcliffe red, his voice was full of awe and disbelief, and his eyes had a dreamy, unfocused look to them.  “I can barely believe it.  You stopped the civil war and then defeated the blight.”  Arl Eamon blinked rapidly and drew himself back to the present and focused his eyes on me. “On behalf of Fereldan, allow me to say thank you.  It truly cannot be said enough.”

“I’m a Grey Warden.  That’s what we do,” I said nonchalantly.  I don’t think I would ever be comfortable with the praise people laid upon me for what was done.  I only did what I felt was right, what I felt needed to be done.

Eamon laughed at that.  “So I’m learning,” he said with a smile.  “It’s too bad that you aren’t remaining here in the capital the hero of Fereldan would have influence, but I understand.  Myself I will be remaining here to help Alistair, Teigan will be taking over the rule of Redcliffe.  Connor seems well enough, and Isold refuses to speak of what has happened.  She refuses to go back.  I cannot thank you enough for saving them, they are the joy of my existence.”  Eamon’s face clouded over and he stared thoughtfully into the glass of wine in his hand.  “Tell me, have you noticed…anything strange about the lad?” Eamons raised his head and looked at me.  “He seems…quiet.”

“Consider what he’s been through,” I smiled reassuringly at the Arl.  When we first started to gather our forces, we learned that the Arl had been poisoned by a mage named Jowan who had been brought in by Eamon’s wife Isold to train their son Conner.  When the Arl fell ill, Connor used his burgeoning powers to try and save his father, but instead was possessed by a demon of the Fade and was the cause of so much death and destruction in the Arl’s home.  But I wasn’t about to tell the man that.  He had suffered enough and had already lost his son to the Circle.

“Ahh you are no doubt correct,” he said with a nod.  “It is my imagination I am sure.  But here I am rambling on,” Eamon waved his hand at me.  “I shall let you get back to your celebration Warden.  Enjoy it while you can.”  Arl Eamon and I shook hands as he turned back to his brother and I resumed my rounds.

Motion to my left and further down the hall caught my eye.  It was Leliana waving me over to her, and I obediently crossed the room until I stood before her.  She greeted me with a smile and a glass of wine in each hand, handing one to me.

“So here we are.  The conquering heroine has won the day, and now she takes her bow and exits the stage.  A fine ending.”  Leliana beamed at me as she took a sip of her wine.

“You should be taking a bow with me,” I said.  Somebody needed to share the notoriety with me, and hopefully take some of the attention away.

“Oh, my part was small,” she said dismissively.  “I’m happy to watch you receive the accolades.  It’s quite fun.” Leliana cocked her head questioningly.  “You know,” she mused, “I can’t help now but think of my vision.  Weather it was the maker sending me to you, or whatever, it was a good thing.  I thought I was supposed to save you, to show you the way…but it seems it was meant to be the other way around.  Odd how that works, no?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” When we first met Leliana claimed she had visions from the Maker that lead her to me.  In the beginning I wasn’t too sure how to react or what to believe of what she said, but now it would be rather hypocritical of me to dismiss what she saw.

“I’ve been offered a position…to head up an investigation into the darkspawn.  It’s quite exciting, really.”  Leliana changed the topic swiftly, easily distracted as her eyes traveling over the crowds.  She always was rather fond of fashion and parties, and I could almost see her comparing the differentiating fashion sense of Orlais and Fereldan.

“An investigation?” I prompted after moment.

“Well, we really don’t know much about them do we?” Leliana looked back at me, her eyes focusing on me once again.  “Alistair says we need to find out more, see how far they go in the Deeproads and where those brood mothers can be found.  I agree.  It will be a grand adventure all my own.”  Her eyes fixed on a point past me and she nodded at someone I couldn’t see before turning back.  “At any rate you should get back to the celebration.  We can speak another time,” she said with a smile.

I nodded and took my leave of Leliana, leaving her in her element to socialize and gossip.  I drifted around the room acknowledging the smiles and nods until I caught sight of Zevran and made my way over to his side. I almost didn’t recognize him at first.  I had never seen him out of his light leather armor, perfectly suited for his profession, but now he was dressed in a red and yellow silk tunic with fine leather breeches.  The clothing complimented his slight frame and dusky complexion, and I couldn’t help but admit to myself that he looked good, if oddly uncomfortable in his new outfit.

“I will be relieved when all this pomp and ceremony is done,” he greeted me with a frown as his eyes watched the room carefully.  “Such events are perfect opportunities for assassins, after all.  I can’t help but expect the crows to appear at any moment.  Which would be a welcome break, mind you.”

“You think the crows will still come after you?” I asked as my gaze followed his.  Zevran had been drafted into the Crows, a group of assassins based out of Antiva at a very young age.  Loghain hired the Crows to take me out, and Zevran was the one who took the assignment.  Thankfully he failed, but failing the Crows is the same as death.  You either die trying to succeed, or the Crows kill you for your failure.  Zevran failed, I spared him, and so the Crows sent another assassin by the name of Talisen to kill Zevran.

“Eventually,” he admitted grimly.  “With Taliesen dead, it may take them time to figure out what happened but they are like the tides. Predictable.”  Zevran eyed me with a speculative grin.  “You know it does occur to me that staying in one place is only going to invite the crows to find me that much quicker, he drawled.  “While fun that might eventually get…complicated.  You said earlier that you were planning on returning to the Grey Warden fold soon.  Is that true?”

“Why?  You thinking of joining?” I smirked.

Zevran seemed honestly shocked by my question and spluttered a bit as he answered.  “A Grey Warden? me?” he asked with a laugh.  “Oh no no no.  There are some bodily fluids even I won’t touch.  The Grey Wardens seen to be a fun bunch to hang around, however.  Maybe they won’t mind a resident assassin?  I’m an excellent mascot.”

“I’d be happy for the company,” I said honestly.  Alistair would not approve, but he would not stop me either.

“And I promise not you get you into too much trouble.  Well… no more than you get me into, anyhow,” he said with a wink.  “Well, then, since we will be leaving together, we can speak after you have been sufficiently paraded in front of the populace.  Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on you and make sure no one gets a clear shot.  Not without paying me a great DEAL of coin anyhow.”

I laughed as I bid Zevran farewell and turned around to see Wynne surrounded by some of her fellow mages.  She looked different out of her enchanter’s robes, more dignified and matronly in a gown of soft yellow and pale blue, although she did seem tired.  Even from across the room I could see the slump of her shoulders and the weariness in her eyes.  She smiled weakly at me as she noticed me walking over.

 **“** The hero of Fereldan.  My, my.  How does it feel?” she asked me with a chuckle as I drew up alongside her.

“It’s a little strange,” I admitted with a smile.

“Of that I have no doubt.  It’s a title you’ll be wearing for a long time to come, just as Loghain wore his.  But it’s not so bad, is it?” Wynne asked me.  “A Blight defeated with the other nations barely becoming aware.  Who could ask for better?”

“I didn’t do it on my own,” I pointed out.

Wynne saw what I was doing and shook her head slightly at me, still smiling.  “I don’t think many heroes ever do,” she said.  “I’m glad not to be on the receiving end of all this attention myself.  I say let the young have their fame.  Not that I’ve gone without notice.  Irving has asked me to take over as first enchanter.  But I don’t wish to go back, not after all this.”  Wynne looked so said when she said that, I had a feeling she was remembering all the lives lost in the Circle tower before I came, after one of the head mages went rogue and unleashed abominations on the tower.  “Instead, I’ve decided to travel.  Shale has expressed a desire to go to Tevinter to look into a way to regain her mortality, and I will join her.”

“But what about…your problem?” I asked hesitantly.  Wynne basically had a good spirit of the Fade attached to her soul, a spirit that meant to help her when she was a child, but unknowingly bound its life force to hers, and was slowly killing her.

Wynne stilled for a moment, looking down for before turning back to me.  “It’s true; I…don’t know how much time I have.  Maybe not very long at all.  So I shall as much of the world as the maker allows,” she said firmly as she drew herself up and set her shoulders in determination, despite her eyes turning wistful.  “Perhaps this is a gift, in the end…a nudge in the right direction.”  Wynne looked at me and a sadness came into her face and eyes.  “I doubt we will meet again my dear,” she said softly.  “If not… please accept my best wishes.”

I felt tears pricking my eyes as I hugged the old sage firmly but gently, feeling the brittle bones in her strong frame.  Of all the goodbyes I had to say, this one was the hardest.  Wynne had taken on a motherly role for all of use when she joined, but none more so than me I believe, having lost my own mother so soon before meeting her.  Wynne had been one of my steadying voices when I began doubting myself, and I would miss her soft smile, her gentle words of advice, and our late night conversations on subjects ranging from politics and morality to the nature of love and duty.  Pulling away from Wynne before my tears threatened to break free; I looked around almost desperately for something to distract me, and caught sight of Oghren in his Legion of the Dead armor at the far left end of the room, conveniently next to the keg of mead.

“Humans have a better taste for spirits than I thought,” Oghren greeted me with a mug of mead as I drew closer, still fighting tears.  “Heh.  The ale up here is actually good.  Orzammar ale tastes like dirt in comparison.  Probably because they put dirt in it.  Go figure.”  Oghren shrugged and tossed back half of the mead in his mug before letting out a belch that drew the eye of everyone in the room.

I wondered briefly if Oghren was homesick, and asked as much.  “Think you might go back to Orzammar?” I took a swig of my mead.

“Mmph.  I don’t know,” he rumbled.  “Maybe eventually.  I’m getting used to that big sky up there.  And I’m thinking I might just look up Felsi again…see where that goes?”  Oghren looked at me questioningly.

Felsi was a female surface dwarf that Oghren was involved with a long time ago.  After losing his wife Branka in the Deeproads under Orzammar, I was happy to try and reunite my dwarven friend with an old flame and play matchmaker.  Oghren was a good man, in love with life, and he deserved to find a good woman.  “I’m glad.  I hope you two are happy,” I said earnestly, relieved that my first attempt at match making hadn’t blown up horribly in my face.

“Ha!  I’ll drink to that.”  And he promptly did so, draining the last of his mug and swiftly refilling it from the keg beside him.  “Ah well!  Enough babbling.  That potbellied son of a whore Teigan said I’d pass out before drinking an entire barrel of pickle juice–I aim to prove him wrong.”

I grinned at my favorite drinking buddy.  “Don’t ever change,” I said.

Oghren laughed.  “Who me?” he asked innocently before sobering.  He nodded sagely at me.  “It’s been good travelling with you warden.  Don’t get lost in the shuffle now.”

I knocked my mug against his in one last salute and drained my mug in one gulp.  I may be a queen but I knew how to drink.  I looked around me and saw I had made my way down the length of the room.  Sten was the only one left that I needed to speak to, and he stood stoically by the wide wooden double doors, waiting for me.  Sten wore the thickest, heaviest steel armor I had ever seen.  I could only imagine how uncomfortable he must have been, standing still there for so long.  But I knew he wouldn’t complain.  A part of me wondered if he even noticed any discomfort.

“It is good to see you again kadan,” Sten rumbled as I approached.  “These people they call you a hero.  It is a strange word, but I think I understand its meaning.  The Arishok on occasion has declared a Qunari to be qunoran vahl, one who serves as an example to others.  Such examples are always made after their death, however.  A death in service to the qun.  A living qunoran vehl would be too proud.”

“I’m not sure it’s the same thing,” I said slowly.  I’m not quite sure I understood everything Sten was talking about.  Even after travelling with him for so long, I still had little to no understanding about the Qunari or their customs.  All I knew was that they were a proud people who followed a strict code of conduct that only they truly understood.

“Not for the qunoran vahl,” Sten insisted.  “For the qunari people it is a cause for much celebration.  It is one of the few occasions when the qunari are permitted to engage in…revelry.  There is imbibing of spirits, public chanting, meditations abandoned…it is madness.

“That would be quite a sight,” I admitted.  I had a hard time imagining such a thing.  Sten was always so reserved and stoic, and from my conversations with him I knew that was the way of most Qunari, so it was difficult to think of such a serious race engaging in something so simple as a party.

“It is…interesting.  It could take days for the bahasran to restore order.  There may even be executions.”  Sten paused for a moment and I swear he almost looked sad.  “I suppose I should tell you…I have decided to return to my people.  Your quest is done, and thus so is my reason for accompanying you.

“The Darkspawn are still a threat,” I pointed out, in case he was looking for a reason to stay.

“But the blight is done,” he countered.  “I have an answer for the Arishok that no longer requires the question.  It must be said:  you found my sword and gave me a chance to restore my honor.  I owe you a great debt.”

“You helped me, as well,” I reminded him.  He seemed determined to leave and I did not want him to feel as if he owed me anything.  “It’s been good.”

“It has,” Sten admitted.  “That one of the bas…a foreigner…would be known as kadan to me?” he shook his head as he spoke with disbelief.  “Unthinkable.  Yet here it is.  Perhaps I will see you again one day.  Until then may you always find the path you seek.  Farewell Kadan.”

I nodded a final farewell to Sten and turned away.  Finally I stood before the wide wooden double doors at the end of the room.  Kiché made his way to my side from where he had been laying quietly in a corner, waiting for me.  I looked back the way I came, down the length of the hall, and saw all the faces familiar and strange swirling around and occasionally looking back at me.  I stayed there long enough to catch their eyes one more, trying to tie us together one last time before turning to one of the guards flanking the doors.  There was nothing more to do, nothing more to say.  I had said my farewells to my companions, taken leave of my friends, and while my heart was heavy with their loss, it was also oddly buoyed by the knowledge that if ever the need arose again one day, they would stance by my side once more.

“Are you ready my lady?” the guard asked innocently.  I took a deep breath and nodded.  He opened the doors wide and I heard a mummer of all those gathered beyond that rose swiftly to a crescendo of a roar of approval as the populace caught sight of who was coming out.  Raising my chin and squaring my shoulders, I took the first step on the road to a new life, my faithful hound forever by my side.


End file.
